


Homecoming

by leavinghope



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Eventual Fluff, Families of Choice, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:29:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27344344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leavinghope/pseuds/leavinghope
Summary: When Nebula snapped the Gauntlet, half of the universe was restored to their homes. But not everyone has the same definition of home, and Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes must each create their own homecomings.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Okoye, James "Bucky" Barnes & Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes & Shuri, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers & Tony Stark
Comments: 77
Kudos: 127
Collections: Not Another Stucky Big Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to the moderators of the Not Another Stucky Big Bang for all of their hard work. I would especially like to give thanks to [Nivelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nivelle/pseuds/NivellesArt), a fantastic collaborator who provided the wonderful art in this story.
> 
> Given the timeline we are all living in, everyone will have a happy ending in this story. Because _**we**_ deserve it. Be kind to yourselves.

Thanos was dead. That was all Steve Rogers could process as he looked at the body at his feet. _Thanos was dead._

Steve closed his eyes and let Mjolnir slip from his grasp.

They had won.

But when he ripped off his cowl and opened his eyes, he felt disappointment instead of elation. He realized he must have been hoping all those they’d lost to the dust a year ago would have returned. But no, he should have known it wasn’t going to be that simple.

Nothing ever was.

Instead he felt the strong grip of Thor’s hand on his shoulder. “Now, for our next trial.” And Thor used Stormbreaker to gesture to the gauntlet, still on Thanos’ hand.

“I call dibs.” Tony Stark said as he, Pepper Potts, James Rhodes, Bruce Banner, Clint Barton, Carol Danvers, Scott Lang, General Okoye, and Sharon Carter gathered around the dead body of the Titan. All of them were covered in grime, bruises, blood, and sweat, but they had survived.

Thor stepped in front of Tony. “I am not so sure you can sustain the power, Anthony. Even with your suit.”

“Maybe I could coax the green guy all the way out.” Bruce gave one of his gentle smiles, still so familiar after his blending with the Hulk. “He can handle the radiation.”

Steve just wanted to grab the gauntlet and get it over with. His anger at Thanos, at all the world had lost, all _he_ had lost, filled his voice as he said, “I’ve got some familiarity with radiation myself.”

“I don’t know, Cap. The serum might not be enough for you to survive.” Clint stepped in front of Steve, as he expressed the doubt that Steve was forcing himself to ignore for the greater good.

“I don’t have to survive. I just have to bring them back.”

Clint spoke plainly. “I can think of some people who would be pretty disappointed to not have you around when they come back.”

Steve knew Clint was thinking of Sam and Wanda. Steve couldn’t help but think of Bucky. He took a deep breath and tried to get his impulsive nature under control.

“I can’t do it.”

Everyone turned to look at Scott.

“I just thought I should get that out there.”

Okoye rolled her eyes, and Sharon laughed, while Rhodey grudgingly agreed with Scott. “Some of us mere mortals have to automatically count ourselves out here.”

“Then it should be me.” Carol brimmed with confidence. With what Steve had seen of her capabilities, she could likely handle the gauntlet.

Thor evidently did not agree with her suggestion, however, and they began to argue. As Tony and Bruce joined in, Steve twisted away from the team, frustrated at the waste of time. That’s when he noticed Nebula, standing a bit away from the others. He hadn’t really had a chance to get to know her in the months they planned the time heist to get the Stones. Tony had trusted her enough to pair her with Rhodey for their part of the heist, which had been all the recommendation Steve had needed to feel comfortable with her on the team. All he really knew about her was she had been created and mistreated by Thanos, and yet she had still yearned for his approval the way so many children do, even if their parents don’t deserve their love.

Steve walked to Nebula’s side. “How are you doing?”

Her words were barely above a whisper. “The things he did to me and my sister.” Her eyes were drawn to the gauntlet. “You have killed him. But this will truly defeat him.”

Thanos had been lured back to Earth for a final battle, after the Snap in Wakanda, after destroying the original gauntlet on Titan. He had learned the Avengers had assembled another gauntlet and brought his Outriders back to Earth to steal it and defeat them once and for all. But even the Outriders had been Snapped, and the fifty percent left behind were not as eager to mindlessly follow Thanos to their doom. Although he had still been powerful, the Avengers were able to defeat him and his depleted army. All that was left was to restore all those Thanos had carelessly discarded.

Much like he had discarded Nebula and her sister.

Steve recognized the hunger in Nebula’s eyes. He thought about how much it meant to Natasha to have defeated the Red Room, how much it meant to Bucky to be free of Hydra. He saw the same need in Nebula to be free of her father.

“Would you like the honor?”

She faced Steve, looking directly in his eyes. “Yes.”

“Do you think your body can handle it?” Steve did not want Nebula to die, not when he and a few of the others could survive the power of the gauntlet. Probably.

“I do not know.” Nebula cocked her head as she spoke to Steve. “But I would like to find out.”

Steve knew, deep in his bones, that Nebula was entitled to make this decision. “C’mon.”

They approached their teammates, who were still deeply embroiled in their disagreement. Steve cleared his throat to get their attention. As they silenced, Steve said, “Nebula should do it.”

At their conspicuous surprise, Steve said, “Thanos has been hurting her longer than he has any of us. It is her right.”

Thor and Carol started to intervene, but Tony quickly quieted them by asking, “Are you sure?”

His question and attention were aimed at Nebula. Steve was touched by the sheer amount of Tony’s concern, conveying the strength of the bond that had been forged between the two during their time in space together.

“Yes.” Nebula said, fiercely and sure. “I want to wipe away his triumph. To reverse his greatest accomplishment.”

Tony looked at Steve, who saw the understanding, the kinship of an abused child, in his eyes. Tony clapped his hands together. “Alright. Let’s get this done.”

Thor and Carol immediately backed off, knowing if Steve and Tony agreed about something, they would allow nothing to get in their way.

Bruce reached down and pulled the gauntlet off of Thanos’ hand. “Everybody should probably move back a ways.”

And they did, except for Tony, Bruce, Rhodey, and Steve. Rhodey placed a reassuring hand on Nebula’s shoulder and encouraged her gently. “You’ve got this.”

Nebula favored Rhodey with a small attempt at a smile. “Thank you, for everything.”

“You’re certain about this?” Bruce hesitated and placed the gauntlet on Nebula’s hand after she replied, “Yes.”

As the glove shrank to fit her, Bruce said, “Good luck.”

Nebula noddedwordlessly in response.

Tony made a shooing gesture towards Bruce and Rhodey, and then only he and Steve remained with Nebula. “Okay, kid. Let’s render your father meaningless.”

Suddenly Nebula appeared young and vulnerable, and Steve’s heart ached for her. Nebula looked at Tony. “But what should I do?”

“Wish they were home.” Tony pulled her into a tight hug, and his voice broke. “Just bring them home.”

Tony abruptly let her go, awkward in his display of emotion, and moved to stand next to Steve. Nebula looked at them both, murmured something underneath her breath, and snapped her fingers.

Steve and Tony flinched in the bright explosion of light emanating from the gauntlet. And when their vision cleared and they could see again, Nebula had collapsed to the ground. In an instant, they were by her side.

Steve was the first to speak. “Is she alive?”

Tony inspected Nebula for signs of life and functionality, as the rest of the team surrounded them. “She is. I don’t think she is permanently damaged.”

“Oh, thank god.” Steve had wanted Nebula to survive so badly. He watched as Rhodey knelt and gently removed the gauntlet from a charred hand, while Tony cradled her head.

Scott asked, “When will we know if it worked?”

Leave it to Lang to ask the obvious, but Steve was nervous himself.

And then there was a soft sound behind them.

“Clint?”

“Nat?” The mixture of hesitation and hope in Clint’s voice caused Steve and the others to turn around.

Natasha had appeared behind Clint, who promptly wrapped his arms around her and began to weep. Her expression was confused as she locked eyes with Steve.

Steve was stunned, immobile. It had worked. It had really worked.

Scott’s phone rang. “It’s Cassie,” he said to everyone, before answering the call. “Cassie, sweetie… your mom is there? And Hope? Oh, my god, Cassie.” He ran off to speak to his daughter and loved ones in some semblance of privacy.

As if Scott’s motion unlocked something in Steve, he found himself rushing to Natasha, who maneuvered to wrap an arm around his waist, her other hand still in Clint’s.

“How long, Rogers?”

They’d been able to start their quest through time for the Stones within a few weeks of the Battle of Wakanda, after Cassie had been determined to find out what happened to her father and freed Scott from the quantum realm. They were so full of hope, but then they’d lost Natasha on their first retrieval attempt and went about things more cautiously in the aftermath.

“A year,” he whispered.

Steve pressed a kiss to the crown of Natasha’s head. He felt her smile against his chest as she said, “Took you long enough.”

He managed a wet chuckle. Then the phone in his utility belt rang. He smiled at the name on the screen.

“Sam.” Steve sighed in relief as he answered the call. “Where are you? Are you okay?”

“I’m at my mom’s. I’m fine. She’s filling me in what happened.” Sam sounded a little frantic, but so very alive. “Are you okay?”

A slightly manic giggle escaped Steve. He looked at all the reunions happening around him. “Getting there.”

After a few more moments, Sam signed off to be with his family. Steve’s eyes remained locked on the screen, willing his phone to ring again. _Bucky, please._

“Hope is okay, too. Everyone’s okay.” Scott bent over, hands on knees and chest heaving. “Oh, thank god.”

Okoye waved her glowing kimoyo beads and smiled brightly. “T’Challa and Shuri have been in contact. It appears the lost Wakandans have returned home.”

Pepper rushed over to Tony and brought her phone up to his ear.After listening for a moment, he sat heavily on the ground. “That was Happy. Parker is okay. He and his aunt reappeared at their apartment. The kid is okay.” And for the first time since Steve had known him, Tony burst into tears. Pepper put her arms around him and rocked him.

Steve finally realized what had happened. Nebula had wished people _home_.

“Laura!” Clint held his phone in one hand and Natasha in the other. Steve made room for Bruce to reach Natasha, who nestled against him. Natasha was smiling, and Steve had never seen her seem so young and happy.

Bucky had seemed young and happy again in Wakanda. Steve snuck another look at his phone, but there was no contact from Bucky yet. There was, however, a text from Wanda, saying she was safe in Edinburgh. He yelled, “Wanda’s okay!” and heard cheering from the team.

Steve’s attention was drawn from his phone to the sight of Rocket, caressing Nebula’s hand, speaking in the gentlest of tones. “Hey. Heard from Drax. They’re okay. The Guardians are fine. On their way to pick us up, so you get better, you hear me?”

“We’ll get her fixed up.” Bruce assured Rocket, and Tony added as he stood up to assist with Nebula’s needs, “Better than ever.”

But before Tony and Rhodey could lift Nebula, a green woman Steve had never seen knelt beside her. “Sister.”

Thor strode over to confront the newcomer. “Gamora?” He said, disbelievingly, “But how can this be? You were dead long before this battle began.”

“It appears the dead can live again, my brother.”

With Loki’s appearance, Thor’s whole body filled with joy and his eyes filled with tears before he cried out, “Asgard, she is restored!” And Steve caught a glimpse of the shining city as Thor joined Loki and two Asgardians Steve knew to be Heimdall and Valkyrie, from Thor’s stories **.** They had appeared on the edge of the Bifröst, the rainbow bridge. Thor was delighted, but confused. “I don’t understand.”

Heimdall replied, “Neither do I, but I have seen the magic of the living Asgardians recreating our home.”

Thor asked, “And Gamora?”He gestured towards Tony, Bruce, Rhodey, and Gamora as they transported Nebula carefully to the Compound.

Loki was the one who answered. “I believe the Soul Stone did not think her father’s sacrifice was in good faith after all.”

Steve was leery of believing Loki. And he apparently did not hide his disbelief well, because Thor said to him, “My brother is skilled both in magic and the lore of the Stones. I believe him.”

Thor clutched Loki’s shoulder and beamed as Loki reciprocated the gesture. The other Asgardians shifted uneasily at the friendliness, wary of the brotherly bond, much as Steve himself was. But Loki was Thor’s family. These Asgardians were Thor’s family.

 _Other Asgardians._ A miracle. Steve could see the glamour encompassing the Asgardians, glowing with a golden shimmer against the smoldering battleground. Asgard itself dazzled at the other end of the Bifröst. _Where are you, Bucky? I wish you were here to see this._

“Pardon me for interrupting your reunion, but Asgard should hear from its king, my lord.”

“Yes, my lady Valkyrie.” Thor turned to Steve. “Duty calls elsewhere, Captain.”

The two men clasped wrists. Steve said, with all sincerity, “I’m glad you can go home.”

“Thank you, Steven. We shall meet again soon.” Thor surveyed the battlefield around him, satisfaction throughout his countenance. “Please give the team my love and my gratitude.”

Thor strode over to Heimdall and placed an arm around his shoulders. “Take us home, old friend.”

“Tis my honor, old friend.”

And in a blur of rainbows, the Asgardians were gone, leaving the gray of the battlefield behind them. Steve listened to the soft susurrus of the still falling ash as the last of the fires smoldered. He hadn’t realized until that moment how colorless the landscape around him was - the concrete slabs of the compound, the charred ground, the clouds of smoke and debris casting a pall. But as he continued to survey the scene around him, a bit of sunlight and blue sky appeared in the West. Out there, people were reconnecting with loved ones. Out there, the world was still turning and returning to normal.

But his phone was still silent.

“Was that…?”

Steve responded to the sound of Sharon’s voice. “Loki? Yeah.”

“And… Asgard?”

“Yup.”

“Huh.”

Steve chuckled at her bemusement. He understood. The events of his twenty-first century life still had the power to amaze him.

Sharon blinked a few times and blew back strands of hair from her face. Falling back on her usual competent, professionalism, she said, “I’ve been briefing Hill and Fury. When I say everything out loud, it’s just… I can’t believe it worked.”

Steve shook his head. “I still don’t know how it worked, but I’m awfully glad it did.”

“I don’t know if I’d believe it if I hadn’t been here.” She smiled up at him.

“I’m glad you were.” He folded Sharon into his arms.

She had been working with Natasha, keeping the team going when Steve, Tony, Bruce, Thor, and Clint had all but abandoned them while grieving. And after Natasha’s death while retrieving the Soul Stone, Sharon had coordinated with Okoye, keeping watch over the communities of Earth while the rest of the team prepared to battle Thanos for the final time. Steve’s relationship with Sharon had been complicated, to put it mildly. A friendly neighbor, a secret colleague, Peggy’s great-niece, trusted ally, another mistimed chance for something more. Maybe in another timeline, but in this one, Steve was glad to call Sharon his friend.

Okoye caught his eye. She gestured that she was about to leave, and Steve inclined his head in gratitude. Okoye waved to get the attention of someone behind Steve and Sharon and tilted her head towards her jet. A few moments later, the distinctive sound of the Wakandan engine filled the air as the jet took off. And that marked the true beginning of the dispersal. As Steve and Sharon clung to each other, Steve watched as the crowd thinned, more and more people returning to the Compound or to their homes. Reunions of families and friends were possible for them, were happening currently all over the world, all over the entire universe. Holding Sharon even tighter, Steve was grateful he played a role in making it all possible and even more grateful for his team who supported him through it all.

Eventually, when Steve finally pulled back, Sharon cupped his cheek in her hand and kissed him tenderly. “Thanks for saving us again, Cap.”

After long days of violence, it was a relief to be touched with affection. He kissed her on the forehead before letting her go. Steve forced himself to hide just how emotional he was getting. “All in a day’s work, ma’am.” He joked, and she playfully saluted him before heading back towards the main building of the Compound.

Steve felt proud with this most important mission, the restoration of half the universe, being successfully completed. But there was an emptiness gnawing in his stomach, a need not yet satisfied. He checked his notifications, his messages, his emails. Still nothing from Bucky.

Steve was clutching the phone in his hand so tightly, he was surprised it hadn’t crumbled to pieces.

He was so deep in his worry that he didn’t hear Natasha approach, only realizing her presence when she wrapped an arm around his waist and squeezed. He responded with an arm around her shoulders and a kiss on the top of her head. He breathed in her scent, so familiar from their years as teammates and friends. It calmed him a bit.

“I missed you so damned much, Romanov.”

They spent a few moments just breathing each other in, the familiar scent of Natasha cutting through the acrid smell of battle. They’d been together through so much over the years, Steve had doubted his ability to get through this last challenge without her at his side. He hoped he’d never need to be without her again.

Snug up against him and dimpling with contentment, Natasha smiled up at him. “Where is Barnes?”

“I don’t know.” A wave of fear overcame him, and with Natasha, he didn’t even try to hide it. “I’m worried. I’m still waiting to hear from him?”

He felt Natasha pull away as he glanced back down at his phone again. Still nothing from Bucky.

And Natasha’s silence was deafening.

When he looked back up at Natasha, she had wrapped her arms around her stomach and was glaring at him, a far cry from the happiness she’d been radiating just a few moments before.

“Nat, what…?”

“Steve, he was here.”

“Oh, thank god.” Bucky was alive. Steve hunched over his knees, breathing hard and trying to concentrate on staying upright as his legs shook. “You saw him?”

“Yes.”

There was a flatness to Natasha’s intonation, forcing Steve’s attention back to her.

“He was right over there.” Natasha gestured towards a fallen chunk of Thanos’ starship, set a little apart from where they had been gathering. “He was watching as you were reuniting with everyone else.”

That sinking feeling was back in his gut again. Something was terribly wrong. “But why didn’t he say anything?”

“Why weren’t you looking for him?”

Steve was confused, by Bucky’s actions, by Natasha’s coldness. He tried to explain. “I was waiting for his call. You know, Sam showed up at his Mom’s, you were here, … I assumed he’d reappear in Wakanda.”

Spots of red appeared on Natasha’s cheeks. When she spoke, she was shaking. “After everything he’s been through, after how hard he’s worked to get back to himself… to get back to you. Of course, he appeared here. How could you even doubt that?” 

She was angry, angrier than Steve had ever known her to be.

“Nat…”

“Barnes saw you, but you weren’t looking for him.”

Steve was speechless, unable to get past the unmistakable sound of betrayal in Natasha’s voice. She was devastated, like Steve had hurt her somehow, and he did not understand what he could have possibly done to cause her so much pain in the midst of so much happiness.

“Hey, Nat, c’mere! I got Laura and all the kids back on the phone for you!”

Without another word, Natasha pivoted away from Steve to join Clint and his family on a video call. Her face quickly brightened as she leaned into Clint and waved into the phone, happy again as she saw Clint’s family.

 _Her family_ , Steve realized, as he stood alone.

Steve looked back at the wreckage where Bucky had been watching him. He’d been so sure Bucky would reappear in Wakanda, the place he’d loved and called home as he recovered. Bucky had been happy there. And as far as Steve knew, Bucky had never been to the Avengers’ Compound. He wouldn’t have even known Steve was there. Why would Bucky have returned to a place he’d never been?

But Bucky and Steve were still alive, so Steve had time to figure this out, if only Bucky would communicate with him. He stared down at his phone again.

There was still nothing.

Steve knew he could be too stubborn for his own good. There was a part of him that was angry Bucky hadn’t made his presence known, angry that Bucky didn’t seem to realize how much pain his absence had inflicted upon Steve. But he tamped his anger down and tried to think of the situation from Bucky’s point-of-view: Bucky had appeared here, undoubtedly disoriented from his time away, witnessing the aftermath of a battle on an unknown landscape. It would have taken him a few moments to get his bearings and understand what was happening. And then seeing Steve, surrounded by his team, by his friends, not looking around for him…

Bucky must have felt so alone, Steve realized. And that’s on him.

With trembling hands, Steve began to text. _Bucky…_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring wonderful art by [NivellesArt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nivelle/pseuds/NivellesArt)!

Bucky Barnes gradually emerged into consciousness. He couldn’t see anything but a hazy, faint orange glow around him. He felt no pain, no hunger. The only sensation was one of rightness, of belonging, the inexorable pull towards _home_. All he knew as he slowly opened his eyes was that he’d finally returned home, after what seemed a lengthy separation.

The first emotion that flooded through him was devastation, because he gained full awareness on a sprawling battlefield, and it would have destroyed him to learn he was most at home when at war. That devastation turned to elation, however, as he realized the battle was over, and the Avengers had won. He could see them celebrating in the distance. His gaze was immediately drawn to a golden head shining above a star-spangled uniform, and he took a few steps forward, feet moving of their own volition. Bucky felt compelled to go to Steve.

But he forcedhimself to stop. Steve was surrounded by his team, his friends. He was laughing and smiling, hugging and being hugged. And never once did Steve look around the battlefield for Bucky, who stood behind a piece of wreckage to unobtrusively observe the scene. With the exception of a few quick looks at his phone, Steve was, as ever, focused on his team. He never spared a glance for Bucky.

Natasha saw him, though. He turned away quickly, not wanting to wait around for her to point him out to Steve.

Bucky caught General Okoye’s attention as she approached a barely scratched Wakandan jet. As he joinedher, she gifted him with one of her teasing smiles. “Need a ride, Barnes?”

“Someone has to help you fly this thing. You look a little rough.”

“Not like you were around to help.”

The banter was a comfort, born of many hours of sparring together during Bucky’s recovery.He dropped into the co-pilot’s seat as Okoye started the engine. As the jet lifted off, Bucky stole one more glimpse of Steve, who continued to cling to Sharon after exchanging a tender kiss. Steve had everything he needed, and Bucky wasn’t part of that. He didn’t want to be a burden, keeping Steve from the life he had carved for himself, the home he had made for himself.

Okoye followed his sightline. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay?”

Bucky shook his head and made himself stop looking out the window. “I don’t think I belong here.”

***

But when he returned to Wakanda, Bucky realized he didn’t belong there either. In the time he had been away, his surviving neighbors had rescued his goats and tended to his farm. They’d packaged up his few belongings and placed them in a lockbox for storage, and they had given his cottage to a young man named Anathi, who had lost part of his right leg during the Battle of Wakanda. The neighbors apologized profusely, but Bucky promised them there was no need. Afterwards, Bucky searched out Anathi to assure him that the cottage would be as wonderful a place for him to recover as it had been for Bucky. They spent the afternoon together, tending to the goats, before Bucky petted them one more time and left Anathi with heartfelt best wishes. He dropped by the homes of everyone in the village, thanking them for their generosity and kindness to him, before traveling back to Birnin Zana. Several of the children walked with him back to the main road, hugging him, before waving and saying goodbye to the White Wolf.

Bucky knew he was saying goodbye to the White Wolf, too.

When Bucky emerged from the cryochamber, finally free of the trigger words, the royal family had provided Bucky with a small apartment for when stayed in the city. It was pleasant… wonderful, actually…but Bucky had always preferred the quiet of the cottage in the village. The view from the balcony was magical, however. He would miss this city, this country and its wonderful citizens after he left it. He was attempting to capture a panorama of the view when his kimoyo beads chimed.

“Your favorite princess is outside your door with mandazi.”

Bucky grinned and opened the door by saying, “Come in, and I’ll make some tea.”

Shuri dropped the box of pastries on the table in the small kitchen and greeted Bucky with a hug. He hadn’t had the chance to talk with her, any more than pleasantries, since they had returned from the Soul World. He knew time really hadn’t passed for them, but he felt like he hadn’t seen her in years. They chatted easily over spiced tea and the beignet-like sweets, and Bucky started to feel a bit settled in his bones. Shuri had saved his life, had given him the chance at a future, and he loved her like the little sisters he had lost so long ago.

“Hey.”

Shuri smiled quizzically at the interruption in conversation. “What?”

“It’s good to see you.”

She reached over the table for both of his hands, her eyes shining. “You, too, my friend.” After squeezing his hands, she released them and asked, “What do you have planned for the rest of this afternoon?”

Bucky ducked his head, embarrassed. “I don’t have anything planned… at all.”

Shuri smiled, understanding everything he was not saying. “Want some company?”

Bucky shrugged. He didn’t want to be alone, but he also didn’t want to be a burden. “You have more important things to take care of.”

Shuri’s eyes were full of warmth as she asked, “Who is going to take care of you?”

“I can take care of myself.”

“But you don’t have to.”

Later, after an enjoyable afternoon with Shuri and dinner as a guest of the royal family, Shuri’s words still rang in his ears. They echoed words he had said to Steve so long ago, the day of Sarah Rogers’ funeral. And that memory unlocked a flood of others. He sat on the balcony with a mug of tea in the cool evening air, and let the memories wash over him.

***

Steve had been sick, so sick. The priest had called upon the Rogers apartment on a Wednesday night, just in case, but Sarah kindly asked him to leave.

_Steven will be fine. He has me and James to see him through the night._

So, he did. Bucky and Sarah had taken turns coaxing Steve to take sips of water and holding cold compresses to his head. By Thursday morning, his fever had broken. By Friday, he was eating normally again. By Saturday, Sarah, fatigued and battling a cough, was back at work at the hospital, pulling extra shifts to make up for the time off during the week.

And on Sunday, Steve was standing on the stoop of the Barnes’ building, too timid to knock. Bucky felt tempted to knock some sense into him.

“What are you doing out here, Stevie?”

“I dunno, Buck.” Steve’s shoulders were hunched, his body swimming in his Sunday best. “Just doesn’t seem like I should be here.”

“What are you talking about, Steve? You’re family. You’ve been here for Sunday dinner before.”

“But this is an important day.”

Bucky knew what Steve was referring to. David Proctor was invited to dinner for the first time, at Becca’s request. They were young, both just seventeen, a year younger than Bucky and the same age as Steve, but the whole neighborhood knew David and Becca were a good match. This was an official _meet the parents_ -dinner.

“C’mon, that just means David won’t be the only non-Barnes. Can’t you imagine how scared he must be right now?”

Steve snorted. “Your father is terrifying.”

Bucky smiled as he threw an arm around Steve’s shoulders. “My father loves you. You’re the only one he loves. David is doomed without your help. Now get in here.”

Steve allowed Bucky to drag him up to the Barnes’ apartment. “David here yet?”

“Got here just a few minutes ago. He’ll be glad to have you around as reinforcements.”

“That bad?” Steve joked, “You taking notes for when you bring a girl home?”

Although Bucky was the oldest, he had not brought a girl home yet. He’d been on plenty of dates, managed more than a few kisses goodnight, but there hadn’t been anyone special. Certainly not anyone he wanted to bring home.

“You know me, Stevie. She’s got to be really something for me to bring her home.” They walked into the living room together. “Can’t get Ma’s hopes up too soon.”

“She’d just be glad to get rid of ya.” Steve pushed Bucky away to illustrate his point, and they both burst into giggles.

The boys quieted down as they approached the dinner table, where Becca and David both looked slightly ill.George and Winifred Barnes were looking particularly stern. Bucky bumped Steve’s shoulder and rolled his eyes.

“Steven, James, help me bring dinner to the table.”

They followed Winifred into the kitchen, where Bucky couldn’t help but say, “Laying it on a bit thick, eh, Ma?”

“He needs to know how I expect men to behave if he thinks he’s good enough for my daughter.”

Steve smiled and nodded at Winifred while taking the gravy boat from her, but Bucky frowned as he grabbed the dish of mashed potatoes. He knew his mother was also talking to Steve, because deep down, Winifred wanted Steve to be a part of the family someday. He’d overheard her talking to Sarah, expressing her hope that Steve would remain healthy enough to become a good husband to one of her girls. Steve was a great guy, so, of course, he’d be a good husband for one of Bucky’s sisters. Bucky didn’t know why, but it just didn’t quite sit right with him.

Laden with the potatoes and an extra dish of butter, Bucky returned to the dining room. He bit back a smile, watching Alice and Louise mimic their older sister’s behavior. Their mother had wisely manipulated them into wearing their favorite dresses, and they were sure to behave so as to not spoil them. Bucky spotted a bit of face powder on their noses, a bit of rouge on their cheeks. All made up like proper young ladies. Bucky figured the girls must be thrilled.

He took the empty seat, the one next to Steve, of course. Their families had learned long ago that separating them just made for even more mischief at the table. Now Bucky appreciated the opportunity to heap more food on Steve’s plate, arguing it was his responsibility to serve Steve as host. He knew Steve wouldn’t take much, and the Barnes had more to spare than Steve and Sarah did.

As the food filled plates, conversation filled the air, easing the tension. Becca and David finally relaxed, exchanging small, sweet smiles with each other. Bucky watched his parents, interacting with an ease born of a long relationship. He knew their marriage had suffered ups and downs. What marriage wouldn’t, with four children to support during the Depression and a man with battle fatigue from the Great War. But that ease, that complete understanding of each other… Bucky could see why Becca would want that with David. Bucky could see himself wanting that someday.

Steve nudged Bucky’s side. Bucky looked at Steve, who slightly tilted his head towards Becca and David.Steve’s eyes were blue and sparkling and expressed his joy at seeing Becca happy and his amusement at Alice and Louise playing at being grownups. It was a whole silent conversation, one of a million they’d shared over the years. Bucky’s heart swelled at how easily Steve fit in with his family as they all sat at the Barnes’ dinner table that night. Bucky had drawn him in over the years. If David was lucky, he’d be drawn in, too, and he and Becca would have what their parents had.

What Bucky and Steve had.

Ease. Understanding.

Bucky had all that with Steve.

He suddenly felt queasy. Steve, of course, immediately noticed and murmured, “You okay, Buck?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Bucky couldn’t really explain what he was feeling. He just knew he didn’t want to inspect his feelings too closely. “Just thinkin’.”

“Don’t hurt yourself.” Steve smiled at his joke.

Bucky forced a smile back, understanding deep down that he wouldn’t be able to avoid getting hurt, but he didn’t know why.

*******

“C’mon, Stevie, let’s go.”

“You go on without me, Buck.”

“Why not?”

Bucky had already changed out of the clothes he’d worn to work. Crisp button-down shirt, a tie that brought out the slate blue of his eyes, slacks only one season out of date… Bucky was ready for a night in a dance hall with his best friend.

“Gotta save my money for the next disaster, pal.”

Bucky sighed. It was the same old argument.

It was 1940. The worst of their financial struggles were behind them. They could afford a decent apartment with what Bucky earned in his clerk position and what Steve brought in from his art commissions. Steve had even had a run of healthy months, so the extra money Bucky picked up training young boxers at the YMCA didn’t have to go towards medicine. Steve was always waiting for the other shoe to drop, which Bucky had sympathy for, after everything they’d been through.But they worked hard and deserved to have some fun.

“Please, Steve?”

Steve was seated on the couch, white button down loose at his neck and suspenders falling off his shoulders. Bucky saw the moment Steve was tempted. Nobody else would have caught the slight hitch in his breath as he mulled over his decision, but Bucky watched Steve too closely for too long not to notice. And he saw Steve’s deep exhale as he made up his mind.

“Go make some dame happy. You’ll have more fun without me.”

_Not a chance._

Bucky knew he could turn on the charm, wheedle Steve into changing his mind. Steve’s eyes beseeched Bucky to go, to not push anymore, so Bucky left those words unsaid. Instead, he put on his jacket and his cheerful facade.

“You’re missing out, punk.”

Steve replied drily, “I won’t wait up for you.”

Bucky knew Steve expected him to be out all night. That was the reputation, right?

“Good night, Steve.”

“Have a good time, Bucky.”

Bucky emerged into the cool early autumn evening. He walked briskly in the direction of his favorite dance hall, in case Steve was watching out the window. But after he passed out of sight, he slowed his pace. He didn’t know what he was going to do next.

Because what Steve didn’t know, what he somehow never understood, is that Bucky wanted to spend time with _him_. Sure, Bucky loved to dance, and he knew how to charm the ladies into dancing the night away with him. But he also loved to share a beer or two with Steve, return to the table where Steve sat to make him laugh, feeling his heart squeeze with what must be pride when Steve braved the dance floor. But Bucky didn’t know how to say that to Steve, didn’t know how Steve would feel to know that it wasn’t a night on the town Bucky wanted… it was a night on the town _with Steve_.

Now Bucky was dressed in his best, with money in his pocket, and nobody he wanted to spend it on. It was too early to go back to the apartment, too many questions to be had from Steve, to many answers Bucky didn’t have, but there was nowhere else he wanted to be. Not for the first time, and probably not for the last, Bucky haunted the streets of Brooklyn, just walking the night away.

***

“What the hell did you think you were doing?” Steve burst into the room, a red, white, and blue blur, slamming the door behind him. Bucky had been expecting Steve, seeing as how he’d been moved into the officer’s quarters for the night. It was a sight better than the tattered canvas squad tent he and the other Howling Commandos usually were assigned to when they were back at camp.

“I’m fine, Captain Rogers, sir.” Bucky gave a sarcastic salute from where he was sprawled on one of the room’s two beds.“Thanks for asking.”

“I’m serious, Bucky. What the hell?”

Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Steve so upset. Maybe the first time he intervened in a fight? “It’s war. Bound to happen sometime.”

“But it didn’t have to happen today!”

It did, though. And Bucky would do it again in a heartbeat.

Bucky crossed his ankles, demonstrating how casually comfortable he was for Steve’s benefit. “Take a load off, Stevie.”

At the sound of the nickname, Steve’s anger deflated away. He sat heavily on the bed across from Bucky’s. He took off his boots and shrugged out of the top of his uniform. Bucky tried not to stare at how the undershirt strained across Steve’s chest. It had been a few months since Azzano, but Bucky still wasn’t used to the new package his best friend was wrapped in.

Steve’s eyes strayed to Bucky’s bandaged side. “How are you feeling?”

The bullet had just grazed Bucky, but from Steve’s reaction, the way he’d carried Bucky, running back to the rendezvous point where a medic was waiting, one would have thought it had been a kill shot.

“I’m fine.”

Steve sighed and finally looked Bucky directly in the eyes. “Really, Buck.”

Bucky had to look away. “Barely hurts.”

He wasn’t lying. He wished he was. He processed pain differently since his time in Zola’s laboratory. Maybe torture did that to a person.

Steve blew out a shaky breath. “Good. That’s good.”

The soft sound of rain filled the silence between the two men.

“Why’d ya do it, Buck?”

Now Bucky was the one who was angry. “Are you seriously asking me that?”

“Yeah, I am.”

Forcing his voice to be steady, Bucky said, “Well, Steven, a Nazi aimed a gun at you and pulled the trigger while you weren’t looking. I decided I’d keep you from getting shot.”

“That meant _you_ got shot.”

“I’m just cannon fodder, Steve. You’re special.”

Steve growled with frustration. “The serum that makes me special means I can handle a bullet!”

_You’ve always been special to me._ The words rang in Bucky’s mind. But before he could decide whether or not say them out loud, Steve said, “Can I take a look?”

Bucky shifted closer to the wall to make room on his bed. Steve stripped down to his undershirt and boxers before sitting next to Bucky. He gently lifted up Bucky’s shirt and hissed at the blood-soaked bandage.

“Looks worse than it is, I swear.”

Steve placed his hand over the wound. Bucky shivered at the touch, which Steve mistook for pain.

“Sorry…”

Bucky held Steve’s hand in place. “Just a little jittery.”

“Can I…?” Steve trailed off before finishing.

Like Bucky could deny Steve anything. “Yes.”

Annoyed, Steve said, “You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”

Bucky scooted closer to the wall. “It’ll be more cramped now that you’re the size of our apartment back home, but we’ll make it work.”

Steve flicked off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness before Bucky could tease him about the blush on his cheeks. Bucky turned towards the wall, expecting to feel Steve’s back against his like when they shared a bed in winter before, but instead he felt Steve’s arm tentatively curl around his waist.

Bucky placed his hand over Steve’s, where it rested on his stomach, and reveled in Steve’s warmth. God, he hadn’t realized how cold he’d been. He couldn’t remember being warm, like he had never been warm a minute in his life until Steve enveloped him. Bucky fought the urge to cry.

Steve pressed his forehead to the nape of Bucky’s neck, and in a trembling voice, he whispered, “I can’t lose you, Buck. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

If Steve could be brave, so could he. Bucky grabbed Steve’s hand and clutched it to his chest, so the heartbeat could remind Steve he was alive, and its rhythm could convey everything he meant when he whispered back, “You’ve always been special to me.”

***

The television in his apartment didn’t work very well, and he only accessed the internet in public spaces, like Internet cafes. He got his news the old-fashioned way, the way he grew up with, by going to the newsstand a few times each week. So, Bucky didn’t learn about the disaster in Sokovia until a few days after it happened. The faces of the Avengers were plastered all over various newspapers and magazines. Bucky compelled himself not to tremble **,** to keep his voice steady and soft, as he made small talk while purchasing several periodicals. Nothing to draw attention as he forced himself to stick to his usual routine: newsstand, food market, café. The one difference he permitted himself was to take his coffee and pastry back to his apartment.

Consistency was key to Bucky being able to function, so as desperate as he was to know more about what had happened, he put his groceries away first. The apartment didn’t have much, but he had a cupboard for dishes and one for dry goods, as well as a refrigerator that accommodated his meager needs. He’d already skipped his time at the café, so the coffee and pastry were next. He took his coffee with cream and sugar, and he chose a different pastry every time, working his way through the various delicacies filled with fruit or nuts or cheese. Today’s choice looked like a large pretzel, but filled with chocolate. Despite the apprehension in his gut about the news, he still savored the warmth of his coffee and the sweet decadence of the pastry.

These were things he was allowed to have now. And he chose to have them.

After licking the final crumbs from his fingers, Bucky finally looked at the news.

The scenes of the devastation in Sokovia were heartbreaking. Novi Grad, its capital city, had been completely destroyed, cast into the sea. Because of the massive scale of the destruction, Bucky was impressed by how few Sokovians had died during the battle. But any death was too many, and he knew Steve would feel each loss keenly. And take the blame for each one upon himself.

All that history, all those livelihoods, all that legacy… gone, so needlessly.

As Bucky read through the news reports, he understood the outrage. The battle seemed to have been instigated by one of Tony Stark’s inventions, leading to accusations he had lied when he claimed to have divested from the weapons manufacturing industry. The Avengers, or whoever was in charge of them now that SHIELD did not exist anymore, had not contacted regional officials before the battle started. The Hulk participated in the fighting although recently having wreaked havoc upon the South African city, Johannesburg, and going on the run from authorities, and he was once again nowhere to be found. Thor was castigated for never staying around to face the consequences of his godlike actions.

Steve acted as the Avengers’ spokesperson at every press conference.

It was cruel, Bucky thought, to do that to Steve, who was somewhat impervious to lasting physical pain, but who felt emotional pain deep in his bones. He was resentful none of Steve’s teammates seemed to understand that about him. Bucky had done his research about Steve’s time in the future, and he only found Captain America, not Steve Rogers.

Steve was going to break some time, and Bucky wasn’t ready to be there for him yet.

The urge to shadow Steve’s movements, providing him cover and support on his missions, had proven almost impossible to resist over the past few years.

_Almost._

Bucky had built some semblance of a life in Bucharest. He had an apartment paid for with money he earned doing odd jobs. He didn’t have to steal, he didn’t have to hurt anyone. He could just _be_. And he needed more of that, more time, before he could ever return to Steve. If that time ever came at all.

Bucky still didn’t remember much but the one thing he knew down to the very core of him was that he was supposed to take care of Steve. To soothe his hurts, even when he claimed to not need Bucky’s help. And seeing Steve raw and in pain, so publicly, was bringing all of Bucky’s fierce protectiveness to the surface. But he needed to make sure the Soldier didn’t surface, too.

The lure of Steve was growing harder to resist, though, especially when he so obviously needed somebody to stand up for him. Bucky reached out to trace that strong jawline on the magazine cover where Steve’s face stared back at him and hoped he’d be ready to be his side soon.

*******

The shower stopped running, so Bucky filled two mugs with freshly brewed coffee and took them outside. There were two low sling chairs by the lake. He took the one on the left and set the drinks down on the ground between the two chairs. The sun was just rising. Bucky had spent many quiet sunrises by the lakeshore. The peace of early morning calmed him, helped him get a grip on all the fragile pieces of his mind and body. Several months in cryo had resulted in muscle loss, and he had refused the offer of a prosthesis to replace his left arm. He trusted Princess Shuri and King T’Challa, but he couldn’t shake the fear that a new arm would weaponize him again. The triggers were gone, thanks to Shuri and the other incredibly helpful Wakandan scientists, but the serum still ran through his veins. He was grateful to be hidden behind Wakanda’s protective shield, but he knew he couldn’t hide forever.

No time for such thoughts, though. He breathed deep, allowed himself to be receptive to the sight of the glimmer of the sun’s first rays on the lake, the smell of the grass and the goats on the breeze, the sound of his best friend’s footsteps as he approached.

This was Steve’s fourthvisit to Wakanda. Always by himself, leaving Sam, Natasha, and Wanda to fend for themselves for a few days at a time. The first visit was for Bucky’s awakening. Steve refused to let anyone else read the trigger words and had been coached by Natasha on his pronunciation, although she adamantly withheld the translation of the words and forbade Steve from ever looking them up. It had been a point of contention between Steve and Natasha, but Bucky had been grateful for that small mercy. _Freight car. Homecoming_ ** _._** Those words would hurt Steve as much as Bucky. They’d spent the first day of that visit huddled together under a blanket on a couch in a luxurious apartment in Birnin Zana, not speaking much, but rather breathing in the miracle of each other’s presence. A skirmish in Transia had called Steve away after only two days, and he promised to return as often as he could.

By Steve’s next visit, Bucky had moved into his cottage, and Steve had teased him incessantly about the contrast with his days as a city boy. But by the end of the visit, Steve had dirt under his fingernails and grass stains on his khakis, and had finally lost the smell of gunpowder, a lingering remnant of his fight to finally rid the world of Hydra.

Steve never used a gun, but that scent… it had haunted Bucky’s dreams enough. So, when Steve arrived for his third visit, Bucky herded him into the shower immediately and threw his clothes into the laundry. All of them. Including the duffle bag itself. Instead, Steve wore some of Bucky’s clothing, the softer garb of the Wakandan villagers.

And now, on this fourth visit, Steve looked completely at ease. Soft brown trousers, a deep blue tunic, bare feet. His damp hair was almost long enough for a ponytail, and Bucky’s fingers itched to run through it.

Bucky watched Steve stand in the sunlight, soaking in its warmth and glowing in its golden light. He took a deep, cleansing breath, and then he smiled as he turned towards Bucky.

Steve sighed contentedly as he sat down, reaching for the coffee. “Thanks, Bucky.”

“Thank you for coming to visit again.”

Steve had arrived in the middle of the night, using the codes Bucky had given him to gain access to his home and crash on the pallet Bucky always kept prepared near his own. Bucky knew Steve struggled with these visits. He wanted to be here, Bucky never doubted that, but his guilt at leaving his team behind overshadowed his every moment.

As they drank their coffees, the conversation turned to what they had been doing since they’d had a chance to really catch up last. Bucky talked about how wonderful and welcoming Wakandans continued to be, and he described how Shuri wanted to build him an arm and, to a lesser extent, mentioned how his therapy was going. Steve detailed the latest efforts to purge the world of Hydra, including taking some hits during this most recent mission. He looked guiltily at Bucky, though, and said, “I really don’t have any right to complain.”

Bucky was tired of Steve’s capacity for martyrdom. “Fuck that.”

“Bucky…”

“Shut up and listen to me for once in your damn life, Steve. This is not a victim competition. Horrible shit happened to me. It did. Horrible shit happened to you, too.”

Steve opened his mouth to speak again, but Bucky wasn’t having it.

“Being frozen alive is horrible. It happened to me, and it happened to you. Waking up and realizing almost everyone you’ve ever cared about is gone is awful, and yes, that happened to you and me both, pal.I’ve got blood on my hands I never wanted there, and that’s true for you, too.”

When Steve once again started to protest, Bucky said, gently, “You hear my nightmares, I hear yours, too. We’ve both been through hell, Steve. And you keep saying it’s time for me to rest. Then what about you?”

“I signed up for this.”

“No, Steve. You signed up to serve in World War II. That was over seventy years ago.”

“But still…”

“Others who fought in that war and came home, they got to go to college with the GI Bill and buy homes with discounted mortgages, and they had their scars and regrets, but they still got to live their lives. Why can’t you?”

“I think I’m government property. Is a weapon even allowed to retire?” There was a note of despair in Steve’s voice.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve been the property of a few governments. Look at me now.” Bucky tried to make him laugh, because there was really no other option.

Steve snorted. “We’re a pair, aren’t we?”

“We always have been.”

Steve turned his head to smile at Bucky. The affection in Steve’s eyes filled Bucky with longing, and wasn’t that just the cruelest word of them all?

Bucky waved his arm at the lake in front of him. “And now we have the chance to be here.”

“Yeah.” Steve looked out at the beautiful landscape in front of them and settled more comfortably into his chair. “I wish I could be here more.”

“Me, too, Stevie.” Bucky patted Steve’s shoulder, needing to touch him. “Me, too.”

***

It was like being back in the war, sprinting through the forest to find Steve during a battle. Bucky had sincerely hoped he’d never have to commit acts of violence again, but the fear that filled him as he hunted for Steve had him prepared to do whatever it takes to keep Steve safe.

At least there had been no triggers. He’d worried, when T’Challa presented him with the new arm and told him a fight was imminent, that he’d be overcome with flashbacks, rendered useless or, even worse, bloodthirsty. But all he’d felt was dread.

Then there had been Steve, striding towards him with his team, naked affection in his smile. It was clear the rest of his team didn’t trust Bucky, and it was equally clear in the hop in his step as he embraced Bucky that Steve did not care about their distrust in the least, that Bucky was not someone Steve was ashamed of.

And when Bucky stood next to Steve on the rise, waiting for Thanos’ armies to attack, he still felt dread, but also calm. Being at Steve’s side during a battle, that Bucky could do. Had done so ever since their ages could be measured in single digits.

So, when they were separated on the battlefield, that’s when Bucky first felt fear. He’d lost sight of Steve. That wasn’t supposed to happen. Bad things happened when they were separated. The calm that had sustained him through the battle so far abandoned him. His heart started to pound, the sound of the battle muffled so he could only hear his thoughts screaming _Steve_. His vision tunneled, searching only for that one man, the most important person in Bucky’s life. The most important person who had ever been in Bucky’s life.

He heard the commotion in the trees and ran towards it. He shot aliens, avoided fire from overhead, and swerved around falling branches, but finally, he was getting close to Steve.

And then there was silence, just as Bucky entered the clearing.

Bucky could see Steve. He was alive. He was safe. And for the briefest of moments, Bucky thought the lightheadedness was due to relief. But as he continued towards Steve, he became more unsteady on his feet as vertigo threaten to overtake him. To concentrate, he brought his hand up to focus on, but it appeared to crumble away.

“Steve?”

And just like the last time Bucky died, his last word, his last thought, his last _everything_ was _Steve,_ as he watched him fade away.

***

Bucky was still steeped in his memories a few weeks later when he accompanied Okoye on a patrol of the border. He appreciated that she offered him a task in his loneliness, because she and the Dora Milaje certainly did not need him to do patrols in their place. They were silent in the Dragon Flyer for the first quadrant of the patrol, until Okoye broke the silence.

“So, what is next for Bucky Barnes?”

She didn’t mean for the rest of the day, and he would never lie to her.

“I don’t know.”

“Hmm…”

He knew that sound too well. “Oh, no. You’re thinking about what you want to ask next. I’m in trouble.”

She laughed before she said, “When you were young, though, before the war, what did you want?”

“I wanted Steve to live through the night, to survive the winter, to have enough to eat.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Bucky saw a herd of eland getting too close to the Wakanda barrier. He gestured towards them, and Okoye lowered their craft, causing the herd to move away to safety.

She acknowledged his assistance with a nod, and then she continued to ask him questions. “But that was the struggle of the every day. When you thought of the future, what did you dream of?”

And it wasn’t that Bucky did not want to answer her questions, so he answered as well as he could. “I wanted a job that paid me well enough, so Steve didn’t have to struggle. I wanted to find a place to live that wouldn’t cause his asthma to flare up.”

“But what did you want for yourself?”

Bucky told her the only truth he could remember. “I wanted Steve.”

Her gaze was thoughtful and not unkind as she asked, “Were you in love with him?”

“Now that is an interesting question.” Bucky settled deeper into the co-pilot’s chair, the pause giving him time to come up with an honest answer. Finally, he said, “I think I was, but I didn’t know it then.”

She quirked a curious eyebrow at him. “How does that work?”

“I’ve been forced to revisit my memories, and Shuri helped me to know which ones were real, not planted and not dreams. It’s clear I was in love with him, but I was so focused on loving him, it didn’t matter.”

At Okoye’s confused expression, Bucky continued. “We were just so busy, you know, living day-to-day. Finding work, getting food on the table, taking care of my sisters, keeping Steve healthy. And he was Steve, you know? He was Steve.” Bucky shrugged, like that’s all there was to say about it. “Wasn’t much time for introspection.”

“And you would have had to hide.”

Bucky nodded.

“And then there was the war.”

“Yeah, and then there was the war.”

And everything that happened after.

“But you’re still in love with him now.”

It wasn’t a question.

They sat in silence until they were on the approach to Birnin Zana. Bucky suddenly felt restless. As much as he loved Wakanda and its people, he knew he had to leave. He had to branch out and learn to live on his own. And maybe he could find a way to pay it forward, all the grace Wakanda had extended to him.

“Heard you’re heading back to the States?”

“Yes, next week. I’ll be escorting Princess Shuri to our embassy in Oakland.”

California. He did not recall ever being there, either as Bucky Barnes or as the Winter Soldier. A chance for a fresh start.

“Can I hitch a ride?”


	3. Chapter 3

The day after their victory, Steve was mostly healed from the wounds of the battle, although not so much that he didn’t duck into the communal kitchen to avoid running into Doctor Helen Cho. He was startled to see a stranger in the room. Although, upon closer inspection, it wasn’t a stranger, but rather Stephen Strange. He was almost unrecognizable in regular clothing, dressed as he was in dark blue jeans and a grey sweater.

Tony had told Steve and the others about all the possible futures Strange had envisioned. Steve had lived a life first thinking his health would not allow him to get very far into the future, and then he’d reached a far more distant future than he ever could have imagined as a child. It was terrible and miraculous, Steve’s life. But to have witnessed fourteen million futures? Steve felt ill just thinking about it.

Steve decided to get to know him. “Doctor Strange.”

“Hello, Captain Rogers.”

“I’m glad you see you Returned safely.”

“Thank you for your part in that.” Stephen grabbed the pendant around his neck much the same way Steve used to hold onto his dog tags. “It was good to be back in the Sanctum.”

“What brings you to the Compound? I don’t recall seeing you here before?”

“Doctor Cho called me in to consult about Nebula’s spinal cord analogue. “

Steve knew that the man before him was an actual doctor, but it didn’t hit him until that moment what a skilled surgeon Stephen had been. His eidetic memory allowed him to remember Strange had been one of Project Insight’s initial targets. Steve had assumed it was because of his eventual transformation into the Sorcerer Supreme, but now he wondered if it wasn’t due to his obvious expertise as a doctor, considering Helen was calling him in.

“How is Nebula?”

“She should make a full recovery. With my guidance, we were able to reconnect her neural net to her motor system. Very similar to some of the spinal surgery techniques I had developed. It will take physical therapy, just like for a completely biological organism, but she is conscious and physically responsive.” After a satisfied pause, he added, “I’m glad her gamble did not turn out to be a sacrifice.”

“Me, too.” Steve appreciated the other man’s quiet pleasure. “I forgot you were a hero before you ever got your powers.”

Stephen shook his head. “Not a hero. A talented surgeon, doing my job, arrogant as hell about it.” He paused a moment, then spoke more softly. “Perhaps the universe had decided I needed my comeuppance.”

Steve realized that Strange missed being a doctor. “But now you can do so much more.”

Once again, Stephen clasped the pendant, the Eye of Agamotto. “Acquiring this was not my intention. I never sought out any more power than to return to the life I had.”

“Would you go back to it?”

Stephen scoffed. “You know what it feels like to save a life, Captain Rogers. I didn’t need enhancement to do that.” He held up his hands, and Steve noticed both exhibited a subtle shaking. “I’ve mostly healed, but not enough to safely return to surgery.”

“And you miss it.”

Instead of confirming Steve’s statement, Stephen instead asked, “What did you want to be before your transformation?”

When Steve paused, Stephen said, “I don’t remember anything about you from my history classes. I wasn’t a fanboy.”

Steve snorted. It had been a long time since he encountered someone so plainly unimpressed with Captain America. “An artist, actually. I wanted to be an artist.”

“And you don’t believe art can save lives?”

Suddenly, Bucky’s voice was in Steve’s mind.

_“You gotta get better, Stevie.”_

_It was the middle of the night. The priest had already been there. Bucky had left hours ago, his mother having dragged him away. Steve thought the fever must be causing a hallucination._

_“I climbed through the window. Wanted to keep you company.”_

_Steve tried to speak, and he felt the press of cool glass against his lips as Bucky urged him to drink water._

_“My birthday is next week, remember?”_

_Steve managed a nod._

_“Guess what Ma said I could do for my birthday?”_

_“What?” Steve whispered, through the pain in his throat._

_“She’s gonna drop us off at the Met for a day. You’re gonna love it.”_

_“But it’s…” Steve coughed, and Bucky gave him more water to drink. “.. your birthday.”_

_“Yeah, and we’re gonna spend it together at the museum.” Bucky crawled into the bed next to Steve. “We’ll use my birthday money for snacks, and you can take it easy. Sit and sketch. Explain all the art to me.”_

_Steve hated being babied, but he’d been so cold, for so long, that he let Bucky hold him close, envelop him in warmth. “Doesn’t that sound great, Stevie?”_

_He nodded._

_“So, you gotta get better. We got plans.”_

_Steve nodded again, determined to not disappoint Bucky on his birthday._

Steve was twelve years old the first time he realized he would do anything for Bucky.

Pulling himself from his memories, Steve said, “I know it can.”

“Then you understand. I can perform literal magic. But consulting with Helen, watching Nebula have reflexes in her extremities again… in that moment, it was as satisfying as saving the universe.”

For the first time in what seemed like forever, Steve felt something like hope bloom in his chest.

***

Nebula was resting on a chaise lounge, her room’s floor-to-ceiling windows making for a lovely view of the grounds and the forest beyond. Steve hesitated to disturb her, but she must have heard him. She turned her head to look at him, and he asked, “May I come in?”

Nebula nodded her assent.

There was another chair, several feet away at the other end of the window. As he sat, he felt Nebula’s piercing gaze upon him. He wondered how many visitors she’d had in the few weeks since the battle. It had taken him this long, after all.

“How are you feeling?”

“I expect to be fully operational in twelve days.”

“Good. That’s good.”

Nebula turned her gaze back to the grounds. Steve took the opportunity to study her in repose, because he’d previously only known her during strategy meetings, during battle. The muted early morning light caused Nebula to glow like a clear, spring sky. And for the first time, her stillness seemed to bring calmness with it, not tension. Steve was glad. He hoped he wouldn’t disrupt her peace if he worked up the nerve to ask her what he wanted.

“You have a question for me.”

Even holding his tongue, subtlety was not a part of his character. “If you don’t mind.”

“I do not mind.” Nebula focused her curiosity on him.

After a deep cleansing breath, Steve said, “So, how did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“You brought back more people than Thanos turned to dust.”

“I was wondering when someone would finally ask me that.”

“I think we’ve all been too grateful to question it.”

“Of course.” Nebula tilted her head, like she was waiting for an answer herself. “I have been thinking about this. Stark asked me to bring them home. I know that home is defined in different ways. For some, home is a location. For others, home is their family.”

Steve leaned forwards, elbows on his knees, as Nebula continued to speak.

“I never had a home. I had a cell. I was not born. I was made. The only family I had was my sister, and our father had killed her on his quest for the Stones. He had killed so many to complete the Gauntlet.”

Nebula looked down at the hand she’d used to rob Thanos of his greatest triumph. “Gamora was in my thoughts as I snapped the Gauntlet. She and the family she had chosen were the closest thing I could imagine as family, as home.”

“That makes sense, I guess. It would explain the Asgardians. Thanos had killed them to get the Space Stone. And Natasha had died to get the Soul Stone you used.”

“It is as close as I can get to a logical explanation.”

Steve could only agree.

“Is it my turn to ask you a question now?”

“If you like.” Steve couldn’t really imagine what Nebula would want to know from him.

“What was the real reason you wanted me to snap the Gauntlet that day?”

Steve leaned back in his chair, his turn to allow the beauty of the surroundings to settle him. Bucky’s story wasn’t Steve’s to tell, but he wanted to share something with Nebula. “I have a friend who has suffered greatly, horrible abuse done to him. And yet he came out of his pain as good a person as he’d ever been.” Steve remembered Bucky’s gentleness, his kindness, his caring, the way he thrived in Wakanda and developed bonds with the people who had helped him there. “But although nothing that had happened to him was his fault, he still feels the need to atone.”

“You wished you could give him absolution. So, you gave it to me.”

Steve nodded, throat closing with emotion.

“Was he on the battlefield that day?”

“No.” And he knew Nebula would understand that Bucky hadn’t been _anywhere_ until she brought him back.

“Would you have offered him the Gauntlet if he had been?”

“No.” And he knew it was the truth. If Steve had asked Bucky to do it, he would have. If Bucky thought Steve was going to risk his life to use the Gauntlet, Bucky would have wrested it away from Steve. But even if he’d survived, wielding the Gauntlet would never have helped Bucky, who would have known undoing the Snap would not bring back those he killed under Hydra’s control. It would have been just another death committed because he followed Steve.

Nebula thought for a moment. “Had he found peace?”

Steve remembered sitting by the lake in Wakanda, quiet enough to hear every bird, every insect, every single one of Bucky’s breaths where he rested next to him. The relaxation of his body, laying in the grass. The gentleness of his smile and the contentment in his eyes. Steve remembered wanting to stay there by his side forever. “I think he had.”

“Without atonement?”

Steve had wanted to hunt down everyone who had ever harmed Bucky, but Bucky had been learning to find other ways to make amends. Steve corrected her. “Without violence.”

“Good for him.” It was the most human thing he’d heard Nebula say.

Steve agreed. “Damned right.”

She turned that penetrating stare of hers back on time again. “You care about him very much.”

Steve’s heart skipped a few beats just thinking about Bucky. “I do.”

“He is your family?”

“Yeah.” It was both more complicated and as simple as that.“Yeah, he is.

Nebula twisted her hands together, as she said, “Your friend may always be broken.”

Her mixture of fragility and strength reminded Steve of Bucky in that moment. “That doesn’t mean he needs to be fixed.”

If she had been human, she would be blushing. “Stark says that, too.”

“You know, he’s a pretty smart guy.”

A knock on the door drew their attention. Helen Cho said, “Sorry to interrupt, Nebula, but it’s time for your neuromechanical therapy.”

“Yes, Doctor Cho.”

“I hope you’ll continue on the mend. Thanks for your time.” Steve stood up. “I’ll get out of your way.”

“I know you don’t like to take up my time, Captain.”

Steve deserved the playful sarcasm in Helen’s voice. Too many times neglecting medical assistance, arguing his serum’s healing abilities meant he didn’t need the same care the others received. “Yes, ma’am.”

Helen smiled and shook her head at him as he walked towards the door.

Nebula called him back. “Steven?”

He paused, a bit overwhelmed by hearing his name, instead of his title.

When he could finally look at her, Nebula said, “I hope you find peace, too.”

“Thanks.” Steve cleared his throat, emotions threatening to close it. “You, too.”

***

About a week later, Steve was in Bruce’s lab at the Compound. Steve had previously brought a cleanup project to him, a need to isolate a chemical that had leached into the water supply for a large part of Brooklyn, and he was checking on Bruce’s progress. Because of Bruce’s talent, he already had a solution for Steve to take back to his hometown.

“Thanks so much, Bruce.”

“It was my honor to help, Steve.” And there it was, the same gentle smile Bruce always had, appearing on his pale green face. And for some reason, that sameness gave Steve the courage to ask Bruce a question he’d been hesitant about before.

“Did you ever regret the serum?”

Bruce exhaled, a deep cleansing breath. “I spent a long time regretting that I ever worked on the serum. I hated the Big Guy. I hated the anger and the violence. Then I realized that it was me, Bruce, that was angry, not just him.”

Steve pulled a stool up to the lab bench and sat down. “What caused you to…” He gestured at Bruce’s body. “… reconcile, I guess?

“It’s a long story, but I ended up in the Hulk form for a long time. Made to fight, but celebrated, too. I was somewhere people liked the Hulk, where he had a life, but then Thor needed Bruce, too. And after I was back in my human form, the Big Guy was tired. He wanted to hide away, but he missed living a life? I mean, he’d discovered he liked bubble baths and soft blankets.” Bruce laughed as he sat down next to Steve.

Bruce’s words reminded Steve of how he often thought of himself as two separate people: Steve Rogers or Captain America.

Bruce continued, “During the battle in Wakanda, I called for the Hulk, but he wouldn’t come to help. I think he didn’t want to exist just for violence anymore, pushed back inside after the threat was gone. After, well, we lost, me and the Big Guy had the time to come to terms with each other. Live with each other.” Bruce shrugged, and Steve sensed his regret for lost years fighting against the Hulk. “Turns out he likes science, and I like still being strong. I can be angry, but still be kind. I mean, that’s something everyone has to work on, right? So, we’re coexisting pretty well in here.”

“That’s awesome, Bruce. I’m really happy for you.” But he had one more question he felt compelled to ask. “But you’ve really given up the fight?”

Bruce nodded. “We both have.”

“Will you miss it?”

Bruce considered Steve’s question with sadness. “Neither of us ever wanted to fight to begin with.”

Steve thought about Bucky, who had been drafted, who had stayed with Steve only to be forged into a weapon, and then fighting again at Steve’s side in Wakanda.

“And I’m not angry anymore, about the things that happened to me, whether I asked for them or not.” This time, Bruce gave Steve a knowing look.

Steve had always been angry. But maybe he didn’t have to be anymore.

He let out a deep, cleansing breath.

Bruce smiled. “There you are.”

***

Natasha continued to treat Steve coolly. And Steve knew he was being a coward by hesitating to break the silence. He kept himself busy with the repairs to the Compound and cleanup work around the States, but one day he found himself once again in the common kitchen with a purposefully quiet Natasha, and he couldn’t take it anymore.

Steve sat down at the table across from where Natasha was dipping chocolate chip cookies into a mug of milk, and he finally worked up the nerve to ask. “I know you’re mad that I didn’t see Bucky, but I’m not sure why.”

Still not looking at him, Natasha said, “I’m well, Steve. How are you?”

“Natasha, please.” Steve wasn’t above begging at this point.

Natasha choose another cookie to dip and ate the whole thing before responding. And when she spoke, she stared directly at Steve with the hurt still apparent in her eyes. “Because he’s like me. We were taken from our lives and remade, and we’ve had to find ourselves again. And you know what I think of when I think of home? I don’t think of a place. I think of Clint and Laura and their kids. I think of Tony and Bruce, you and Sam. I think of the people who have helped me remake myself. You’re my home. And, for Barnes, it must be even more so, because you were his home before he was remade. You’re what he remade himself for.”

Steve didn’t know how to respond to that, but Natasha saved him from floundering by asking, “When you think of home, what do you think of?”

Steve immediately said, “Brooklyn.”

“And if I asked you to sketch what Brooklyn means to you, what would you draw?”

Steve felt his right hand twitch, and he closed his eyes to visualize the path his hand wanted to take. A fire escape, lanky legs dangling over the edge, lean arms growing stronger every year, dark brown curls, slate blue eyes, a smiling youth who had no idea the pain which was waiting for him.

“Well, shit.”

That earned a satisfied smirk from Natasha. “I take it my point has finally been made.”

“Nat…”

Natasha took pity on Steve and pushed the plate of cookies towards him. Steve grabbed one of them and shoved it in his mouth just for something to do. The food at the Compound was always great, but today the cookie was tasteless to Steve.

“You’ve spent all of your time in this century yearning for the past. You’ve constantly been sad and angry about how much you’ve lost. But when I asked you to think of home, you thought of Barnes. Who is alive and here in the future with you. Why would you think he’d feel any different?”

“Because he’s never needed me before.”

Natasha looked as shocked as Steve felt at the honesty which had escaped from him. She drew the plate of cookies away from him so he couldn’t use them to stall.

“I was sick and angry and stubborn and self-righteous and reckless.” Steve hunched in on himself, self-deprecatingly, “Believe it or not, twenty-first century Steve Rogers is the low-maintenance version.”

Natasha blew out a long, disbelieving breath. “So, you’re telling me Barnes is a saint.”

Steve barked out a laugh. “You have no idea.” He sobered quickly, though. “Bucky’s always been the strong one. He’s always been the one who took care of me. He never needed me.” Steve buried his face in his hands. “I was always such a burden for him.”

“I bet you’ve been a pain in his ass, but not a burden.” She pulled his hands away, so he was forced to face her. “That man loves you.” She squeezed his hands tight. “As much as you love him.”

Steve had so much to think about, so much to reassess. But before he could do that, he had to know. “Do you forgive me?”

“Yes, I forgive you.”

And now for the truly scary question. “Do you think Bucky will forgive me?”

That earned the dimply smile from Natasha that Steve had missed so much. “Of course, he’ll forgive you. You’re his home. But you might work on earning his forgiveness.”

As always, Steve knew Natasha was right.

***

They hadn’t had a chance to talk, _really_ talk, before retrieving the Stones or before the final battle. But Steve had finally heard the benefit of talking, _Sam will be so proud_ , so he eventually made his way into Tony’s lab.

Tony was bobbing his head to the beat of the loud rock music he favored, occasionally high-fiving his robot assistants. Steve leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, and watched for a few minutes, his heart swelling with affection. Most of the time, the two men couldn’t stand each other, but they did care about each other. So many things would have been easier if they didn’t.

Finally, Steve drew himself up to his full height. His motion caught the attention of the robots, who all dramatically saluted in his direction.

Tony turned. “Hey, Cap!”

“Did you program them to salute sarcastically?”

“Nope, they decided that for themselves.”

They cast tentative smiles at each other, before Tony asked, “So, what brings you into my lair?”

“Thought we’ve avoided talking long enough.”

“Are you sure about that? I’m pretty sure we can continue to avoid each other.”

Steve laughed and leaned against a workbench. “It’s time.”

Tony sighed. He wiped his hands off on a rag and threw it in a waste bin. “You first.”

Steve took a deep breath. He knew this was long overdue. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about your parents. When the Zola computer program hinted at the Winter Soldier’s involvement in their deaths, I didn’t even understand what I was seeing, and I certainly wasn’t sure if it was true. But I should have at least warned you of the possibility.”

“Yes, you should have.”

There was a brief pause before Tony said, “And if it hadn’t been my parents, I would have been more upset about the fact Howard recognized him. He called him _Sergeant Barnes_.” Tony’s voice conveyed his disgust. “Didn’t even beg for his life… or my mom’s.”

“I’m so sorry, Tony.”

Tony waved a dismissive hand at him. “Not your fault, Cap. In fact, it got me thinking…”

Tony uncharacteristically hesitated, so Steve prompted, “About what?”

“I don’t even know if I should say this, but no more secrets, right? I’ve had time to think more about SHIELD’s complicity. Should have wondered how they knew how to thaw you out safely. I mean, when would they possibly have gotten that experience, right?” Tony leaned back and waited for Steve’s reaction.

It was like a blow to Steve’s gut, knowing he was alive, body unharmed and intact, because Bucky had gone through the process so many times before him. He felt like a fool, having never thought about the possibility before. Perhaps because it would lead him down a path he didn’t want to go, one with Chester Phillips and Howard Stark and Peggy Carter at the end of it.

Tony must have read all of this on Steve’s face. “Like I said, not your fault.”

That was forgiveness from Tony. That was compassion. Steve owed him the truth. “It’s just… Bucky is the only person alive who knows me. The real me. Around him, I can be myself.”

“You can’t be yourself around us. Steve?” Even Tony seemed like he recognized how strange the name sounded on his tongue.

Steve shook his head. “You weren’t even introduced to me. All of you met Captain America. All of you knew Captain America first.”

“True.“ Tony nodded. “I even had the Underoos.”

They were both quiet as Steve endured a few moments of intense scrutiny before Tony said, “I get it now.”

Steve looked at Tony.

”You know, I always thought Barnes was a friend to you, just like me or Romanov or Wilson. A close friend. I thought he was your Rhodey.But he isn’t, is he.” Tony grinned. “He’s your Pepper.”

Steve just gaped.

“You know, Pepper worked for me for a while before we became a thing. I liked her, but I was very invested in the billionaire philanthropist playboy lifestyle, so I didn’t really notice how much I took her for granted. Even after we started dating, I’m didn’t fully realize how much I loved her until I watched her fall, seemingly to her death. I just took it for granted that she’d always be there.” Tony paused. “Sound familiar?”

Maybe Tony did understand. Maybe Tony understood more than Steve did.

“Second chances are rare., Steve. Third chances, even more. How many chances are people like you and me going to get?” Tony fidgeted with a Stark-branded multitool. “You should go for it. Bring him as a plus one to the wedding.”

Steve recognized that as an olive branch to Bucky, which he deeply appreciated. “Thanks for the invitation. But, me and Bucky, we’re not like that.”

“No?” Tony’s eyes twinkled with delight. “Howard thought you were.”

Steve sputtered several times before barely forcing out, “What?”

“Howard told me when confronted with some of my college, um, indiscretions. He said there wasn’t anything less manly about being bisexual. How could there be when Captain America and Bucky Barnes were queer? One of the few times dear old dad ever supported me. I think it’s because he wanted a piece of that ass of yours himself.”

Steve was stunned. “But he knew us, he knew me and Peggy…”

Tony interrupted him. “I think Peggy is what convinced him, actually. He said you had an innocent, awkward crush on Peggy, and that it was mutual, if much less awkward for her. But for Barnes? When Howard met you, it was to help you invade a Hydra base behind enemy lines _alone_ just in the hope he was alive. He said Barnes was what drove you to truly become Captain America. And it was only Barnes that drew that level of passion from you.”

Steve remembered how surreal it had felt to hear Phillips dismiss Bucky as one of the dead, how it couldn’t possibly be true, and how nothing could have stopped him from searching for Bucky. He could remember his fear while searching the Hydra base, how relieved he’d been to find Bucky alive, the blast of heat as he leapt across an exploding chasm, desperate to get to Bucky’s side.

Tony’s voice pulled Steve out of his memories. “Let me ask you this…If Barnes had been alive, would you have put the _Valkyrie_ down in the water?”

Steve imagined Bucky being on the other end of that call with Peggy. Just the thought made his stomach clench. Shaken, he said the truth he just realized. “No.”

Tony pointed at him. “There you go. So, Barnes, your plus one, my wedding.”

This extension of forgiveness to Bucky must have been why Steve’s heart felt so full. “Send me a link to the registry when you have a chance.”

“Ha ha. Good one. Speaking of, got you a gift.”

Tony walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a round leather case in a very familiar size. He handed it to Steve, who looked at Tony for permission. At Tony’s nod, Steve unzipped the case and pulled out a shield. He held it, spun it, made as if to throw it, and placed it on his arm.

“It’s perfect, Tony.”

“Glad you like it.”

“I do, but…” A weight lifted from Steve’s shoulders as he asked, “… do you mind if I pass it on?”

***

Sam arrived at the Compound in time to get his new wings from Stark’s lab before having breakfast with Steve and Natasha. Over a feast of eggs, potatoes, fruit, and coffee, Sam caught them up on what he’d been doing the past few months. Then, at Natasha’s urging, Sam put on the wings and demonstrated some of the new functionality Tony had built in.

“Those are great, Sam.”

“I’m almost jealous.” Natasha wiped her mouth and stood up from the table. “Tony said he had new gear for me, too. I’ll see you boys later.” Natasha seemed to know Steve wanted to talk to Sam alone.

Sam took off the wings and went to hug her. “I’ll see you later before I leave, right?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t miss it.”

From the amusement in her voice, Steve would bet Natasha knew why he wanted to talk to Sam alone. Once Sam had escorted Nat out of the room, Steve decided to leap right into it. “You know, those wings would look good in red, white, and blue.”

When Sam turned around, his eyes widened at the sight of Steve holding out the shield to him.

“What are you saying?”

“I think that the world might still need Captain America.”

Sam regarded the shield with trepidation. “What about you?”

“I think I might need to be Steve Rogers.It’s been a long time.”

Sam looked curiously at Steve. “You’ve been thinking about this for a while?”

Sam still had not taken the shield, so Steve carried it with him over to a couch, where he sat down heavily. “Yeah. This past year was…”

Sam filled it in for him. “Rough?”

Sam sat down next to Steve and waited patiently for him to talk.

Steve didn’t know how to encapsulate the year after the Snap. His despair, his self-loathing, his guilt, his helplessness. But he could remember the word that ran through his head every time he tried to fall asleep. “It wasn’t even the first time I heard him say my name as he died.”

After a rapid intake of breath, Sam said, “Jesus, Steve.”

For the first time, Steve admitted what happened to him. “I just fell apart.”

Sam placed a comforting hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Half the universe disappearing will do that to a person.”

Steve appreciated the attempt at levity, but Sam deserved honesty. Steve deserved to be honest with himself. “I let everyone down, you know. I could barely function.”

Sam squeezed Steve’s shoulder, reminding him of his presence.

“I left Natasha on her own. I just couldn’t lead anymore. How could I? I brought the battle to Wakanda. He’d run to fight by my side and died. Again. My fault, again.”

And finally, Steve cried.

He cried for all the time he and Bucky and his friends had lost with each other. He cried for all the people who died in their year apart, never knowing their loved ones would return. He cried for all the people who returned to find their loved ones dead or having moved on without them. He cried because the team had made the best decisions they could, but there still couldn’t be a happy ending for everyone. And Steve cried because of all of the decisions weighing him down over the last century.

Sam let Steve cry it all out, handing him a handful of napkins to wipe his face.

“Feel better?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Sam.”

“You know, I heard you tried to take my old job at the VA.”

Steve chuckled, a bit damply. “Trust me, your position is safe.”

“Thanks for carrying on the work.”

“The least I could do.”

“And now you want me to carry on your legacy?” Sam sounded skeptical.

Steve sought to assuage Sam’s fears. “Can’t think of anyone better suited.”

“Wow. That means a lot, man.” It was Sam’s turn to blink back a few tears. “But why now?”

Steve glanced down at his phone. It was Tuesday. Tuesdays were important because on Tuesdays, Steve would receive a text from Bucky. Steve sent him texts every day, but he would only ever receive one back each week. It had started a few weeks after the Return. Steve had been out of his mind with worry, and nobody would tell him where Bucky was. But Bucky eventually sent a text, a single emoji (the neutral face, as it turned out, which Steve was grateful for… Bucky was okay and did not hate him), and Steve responded eagerly. And so the routine was established: Steve would text Bucky whenever and whatever, and once each week, on Tuesday, Bucky would send an emoji, letting Steve know he was okay.

Today, though, had been different. Today, Bucky had sent an image.

It was a cabin. 

The position of the stars in the sky were enough to establish latitude. The coastal scrub helped to determine a general location. The style of the cabin would enable Steve to eventually find the exact site.

Steve smiled at his phone and then back up at Sam. “I was waiting for a sign.”


	4. Chapter 4

The rhythm of the knock on the door hadn’t changed in a hundred years.

“It’s open!”

In response to Bucky’s invitation, he heard Steve yell, “That seems like poor security!”

Bucky rolled his eyes, even though Steve couldn’t see him, and he didn’t fight the smile on his face or in his voice. “I’m pretty sure I can take care of myself, punk.”

He’d known Steve would arrive within seventy-two to ninety-six hours of receiving that image.

Bucky quickly finished making his bed, and then he paused to gather himself before leaving his room. He had taken a short hike in the morning, showered, eaten lunch, and tidied his home. When he looked in the mirror, he saw a man with a trim beard and well-groomed shoulder-length hair. He looked like who he was: a healthy and functional young man whose best friend was in his living room. He was ready for this.

But still, Bucky felt his whole body and soul relax at the sight of Steve.

“It’s good to see you, Stevie.”

And it was. Steve was wearing longer hair and a beard similar to the one he’d grown before Thanos had appeared and everything had gone to hell, and he was dressed casually in a plaid shirt and jeans.

“You, too, Buck.”

Steve’s eyes traced a lingering path over Bucky, taking in his weathered black jeans and deep maroon pullover, covering both of his arms. Steve looked like a starving man stumbling across a feast, and Bucky recognized that look because he felt the same.

He decided that hugging was a good way to hide his blush.

Bucky still wasn’t used Steve’s larger body sometimes, but then again, it seemed neither was Steve, who bent his head down to nestle his nose in the juncture of Bucky’s neck and shoulder, where it used to reach when he was smaller. Bucky rested his cheek on Steve’s temple and held him even closer.

They stood there for several minutes, quietly enjoying each other’s presence, until Bucky broke the silence. “Took you long enough.”

“I didn’t know if you’d want me here.”

“If I didn’t want you to find me, do you think I could have been found?”

“I’d never give up hoping.”

“I know.” Bucky stepped back a few paces. “Want a tour?”

“Yeah, I’d love that.”

“Bring your bag. Got a place for you to put it.”

The tour of Bucky’s home didn’t take long, the timber frame cabin containing two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen and its dining area, and living room all on one floor, but they lingered while walking around the grounds outside. The cabin was nestled amongst the coastal scrub of Northern California. It was close enough to have a view of a rugged shoreline and to hear the ocean waves, but far enough back for privacy from the occasional beachgoer. Bucky pointed out the paths heading toward the closest town and down towards a practically hidden cove.

The end of their explorations found them on the covered porch, glass bottles of Coca-Cola in hand. They sat on lounge chairs, legs elevated and comfortable, and Steve let out a contented sigh as he took a drink.

“The team always went for beers or liquor, but nothing ever matched up to that first sip of soda for me.”

“Now we can afford all we want, even the fancy stuff with real sugar.”

“I see you have been as disappointed by the amount of corn syrup in food as I have.”

“What the hell is that stuff, Steve?”

“I do not know, pal.”

They shared a companionable silence, drinking their sodas and watching the sunset.

“So, why here?” Steve blurted out the question like he couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“You don’t like the cold. If you showed up here, it would mean you really wanted to be here.” Bucky teased.

Steve punched him in the arm. “Jerk.”

“But really….” Bucky gestured to their surroundings and said, “It’s beautiful here. Not so isolated that I can’t get internet or food, but private enough we don’t have to worry about unwanted visitors.”

“We?” Steve’s voice was both hesitant and hopeful.

“Yeah.” Bucky exhaled deeply. “Been waiting for you.” 

One day, maybe soon, Bucky would tell him how long.

***

The morning after Steve’s arrival, Bucky woke up to an empty cabin. He poked his head into the open door of the guest room, which he always referred to as _Steve’s room_ in his mind. Steve’s stuff was still there, and the bed was unmade, so Bucky assumed Steve was off on a morning run.

Bucky wandered into the kitchen, brewed a pot of coffee, and put it in a thermos. He grabbed two mugs and wandered out to a clearing in the midst of the scrub and rocks where he had two Adirondack chairs and a low table around a metal fire pit.

The dawn light reflected in Steve’s hair, giving it a tinge of gold on top of the deep blond color his longer hair always had. Steve was staring out at the ocean, but Bucky could see him smile when he approached. Bucky dropped down into the other chair, poured two mugs of coffee, and pressed one into Steve’s hands.

“Thanks, Buck.”

They drank their coffees companionably, appreciating the beauty of the Pacific early in the morning. It reminded Bucky of shared mornings in Wakanda and summer evenings dangling their legs off of fire escapes in Brooklyn. When it was time to fill their mugs again, Bucky gestured towards Steve’s running shoes. “Did you enjoy your run?”

“Didn’t get that far.”

Bucky just raised an inquisitive eyebrow, so Steve said, “I meant to run. But I got out here, and it was so peaceful. I didn’t want to disturb the quiet.”

“How long have you been sitting here?”

“About an hour, I think?”

“Wow, something other than being sick or encased in ice can make you sit still. It’s a miracle.”

“You haven’t changed. You’ve always been a jerk in the morning.” But Steve was smiling, and Bucky felt himself grin in return.

“Glad I haven’t disappointed you.” But Bucky wondered, so he asked, “Did you enjoy the quiet?”

Steve spent a moment considering the question. “You know, I really did.”

Bucky filled with hope. This could be a turning point for Steve. And maybe for them. “It’s good, to be here in the quiet. Sometimes I sit here for hours, just letting the sound of the waves calm me.”

“Does it help?”

Bucky heard all the things Steve wasn’t saying. “Yeah, it does.”

***

Over the next few days, Bucky and Steve explored the beaches and trails near the cabin. Neither of them had spent time near such a wild seashore before. Bucky loved the thunderous roar of powerful waves crashing upon the rocks. Steve was obsessed with the various colors of sea glass and sketched various sea creatures caught in tide pools. 

It was a few blissful days of actual vacation, a luxury neither man had ever experienced before. Eventually, though, Bucky knew they’d need to settle back into reality. He knew Steve was ready, because as they ate breakfast, he asked Bucky, “So, what have you been doing to pass the time?”

“Writing, mostly.”

“What about?”

“My memoir.” 

At Steve’s look of surprise, Bucky said, “Pepper Potts recommended it, actually.”

“You’ve talked to Pepper?”

“And Tony.”

Bucky didn’t want Steve to wallow in the hurt he was clearly feeling.“Pepper thought a memoir might help the public understand what happened, make the public accept me.”

“And what did Tony have to say?”

“He found stuff, stuff of Howard’s, that proved SHIELD knew about me. And abandoned me to my fate.”

Bucky would never forget Tony’s voice when they talked, how it seemed like Tony needed Bucky’s forgiveness as much as Bucky needed his. They had reached a level of peace with each other while Pepper sat between them and clasped their hands in hers.

Steve interrupted Bucky’s thoughts of that day by asking, “Did Peggy know?”

He had hoped Steve would never ask. That he would never have to know. But he had promised himself never to lie, never to hide from Steve again. “She was the director of SHIELD for a long time, Steve.”

Steve rested his elbows on the kitchen table and hid his face in his hands.

Bucky hated seeing the distress and sadness take over Steve. He sought to distract him. “My sisters… did you know they had kids?”

Steve sniffled and wiped his eyes. “Yeah.”

“And those kids had kids. There are still some Barneses around.”Bucky hesitated, the uncertainty taking hold. He fought it off to say, “Pepper suggested I could use the book as a way to explain what happened. That it might be easier to reconnect once they knew the whole story.”

“You gonna reach out?”

“If I tell my story first. It’ll make it easier for me, I think.”

“That’s great, Bucky. You’ll have your family again.”

“Our family, Steve. You’ve been a member of the Barnes family ever since the first time my ma helped me patch you up after a fight.” Bucky reached across the table and took Steve’s hand in both of his. “Don’t you ever forget that.”

The look of gratitude and affection on his face reminded Bucky of how Steve looked the day of his mother’s funeral. Steve had always wanted a family, and he’d always had the Barnes.

Letting go of Steve’s hand, Bucky leaned back and said, “So, how about you? What have _you_ been doing to pass the time?”

“I gave the shield to Sam.”

Bucky’s heart skipped a beat. He must not have heard that right. “What?”

“Right before I came here. I’d been thinking about it for a overwhile, though. Retiring.” Steve just continued to eat granola as if he were merely discussing the weather.

“Steve, I…“ Bucky was overwhelmed. He had hoped Steve would retire someday, that he’d live long enough to retire, but he now realized he thought it would never happen.

“You okay there, Buck?” The glint in Steve’s eyes showed his amusement over Bucky’s reaction to the news.

“I don’t believe it.” 

“I can hardly believe it either.” Steve shrugged, while finishing off his coffee.

In that moment, there was only one thing Bucky cared about. “Do you regret it?”

“No, I don’t.”Steve’s words came swift and sure.

“Wow.” Bucky couldn’t fight the smile from appearing on his face. He felt light, untethered, almost giddy. “I’m happy for you, Steve.”

“Thanks. Me, too.”

“So, what’s next?”

Steve did that little tilt of the head and looked up through his long eyelashes at Bucky, and damned if it didn’t work on him the same way it had since the 1930s. 

“Just tell me, Stevie.”

“I don’t know what’s next, but I was hoping I could stay here till I figure it out?”

It was more than Bucky had ever allowed himself to hope for.“Of course.”

***

And so Steve stayed. He fit into the home Bucky had made, just as he’d hoped when picking out each piece of furniture, choosing color and texture and comfort with Steve in mind. Bucky had left some room in the second bedroom for Steve’s stuff, but nothing ever showed up to fill the gaps.

A week or so after Steve informed Natasha and Sam he was going to remain in California, Bucky asked, “When will your stuff show up?”

“My stuff?”

“Yeah. You are staying, right?”

Steve nodded, but something about Bucky’s question obviously bothered him. “Everything okay, Steve?”

“I don’t have any stuff.”

“That’s fine, we can get you whatever you need.”

“Sam and Nat, though. They had stuff.”

Suddenly Bucky realized they weren’t talking about physical belongings anymore.

“They had mementos, people, family. Wanda, Scott, Clint… all of them had things they left behind to follow me.” 

Steve stood motionless in the middle of the living room. Bucky knew Steve was starting to spiral, so with a firm hand on the small of Steve’s back, he guided them to the couch. Bucky placed his arm around Steve’s shoulders. “They followed you because they believed in you, because they trusted you, because they loved you.”

They sat together quietly, while Bucky rubbed gentle circles on Steve’s back. He had learned decades ago that he could not convince Steve of his worth. The way people fawned over Captain America, not Steve Rogers, had honestly made the problem even worse.

Eventually Steve asked, clipped and barbed, “But why?”

Bucky had so many reasons he could list: his sense of justice, his capacity for compassion, his selflessness. Steve would never listen to reason about this, though, so Bucky simply said, “You’re easy to love.”

Steve scoffed at the sentiment. “You’ve been around me since the 1920s. What’s your excuse?”

Bucky ruffled Steve’s hair on his way to the kitchen, needing to lighten the mood, but still tell the truth. “You were always easy to love.”

By the time Bucky returned to the couch with mugs of coffee, Steve had regained his composure. 

“I’m sorry about that.”

“None of that, Rogers.”

“But I didn’t mean…”

“Nope. No apologies for how you feel. This is a judgment-free home when it comes to dealing with our trauma.”

A beat passed. “You been listening to Sam?”

“I do not need to listen to Samuel Thomas Wilson to know we shouldn’t feel ashamed of our emotions.”

Steve snorted. “Judgment-free?”

“I will totally judge you, Steven, when you deserve it. Like for your horrible singing voice and your need for really strong coffee.” Bucky grimaced as he took a sip to make Steve laugh, which worked. But Bucky made sure to make eye contact with him, so Steve took him seriously, when he followed up with. “But not for your pain, not ever.”

Steve clasped the mug in both of his hands, and Bucky could see the moment when Steve allowed the warmth to seep in and finally released the built-up physical tension. He shot a small, heartfelt smile at Bucky.

“Thanks, Buck.”

They spent a few moments chatting about their plans for the day when a thought occurred to Bucky, now that he knew Steve didn’t have any belongings to call his own. “What happened to our old photographs?”

“I don’t know.”

“Think my family has them?”

“Maybe. Them or the National Archives?”

That would never fail to strike Bucky as bizarre. He shook his head. “How did we get from Brooklyn to being in the National Archives?”

“You were drafted, and I made an impulsive life-changing decision without you to watch over me?”

“You ain’t lyin’.”

Steve grinned, as he always did when a bit of Brooklyn crept back into Bucky’s voice. He did not want to kill the mood, now that it had finally improved, but the old photographs weighed upon Bucky’s mind.

“I don’t want to bother any family while writing this memoir, but I wish I had some photos. Sometimes…”

After a few moments, Steve gently prompted, “Sometimes what?”

Steve deserved to have his earlier vulnerability reciprocated, even though this was very difficult for Bucky to admit. “I think I remember most things, but sometimes I worry I’ve forgotten their faces, you know?”

Steve set his mug down and placed his warm hands over Bucky’s where they were gripping his own coffee mug like a lifeline. 

“And it would be nice to include the photos, remember my family… and Sarah, too.”

Steve squeezed his hands tightly before releasing them. He leaned back in his seat and said, “I could draw them.”

“Hmm?”

“I remember them, and I remember how to sketch. I could illustrate the book for you?”

“Wow. That’d be amazing.”

“I think it would be good for me, too. I haven’t really decided what to do next. This could keep me busy while figuring it out.” Steve’s tone was wistful. “Revisiting the past. Maybe even making peace with it. Then deciding on the future.”

Bucky had only caught glimpses of Steve’s difficulty adjusting to the future. “It’s been helping me, the writing.”

“Well, that settles it.” Steve grinned at Bucky. “Biography by Bucky Barnes with illustrations by Steve Rogers. A publisher will definitely go for that.”

“If you’re sure….”

“I’m sure. Just tell me what you want.”

***

So, over the next several weeks, they settled into a routine. Run or hike, breakfast, errands or chores, lunch, then work. Bucky wrote, and Steve sketched. In the evenings, after dinner, warm with food and affection, Steve would show Bucky the drawings - him and Bucky as children, then teenagers and adults.Sarah and the Barnes family, various glimpses over the years. Their neighborhood and various apartments. Azzano. The Howling Commandos. The Alps and the train. A bridge in DC and a fall into the Potomac. Romania, Berlin. Wakanda, with the permission of the royal family, of course. They’d reminisce, sometimes with tears, sometimes with laughter. And every night, they’d linger in a long hug before each going to their bedrooms, exhausted with emotion, to sleep the nights away.

Facing the past together was helping them both into the future, just as Bucky had thought. In fact, Bucky may have finally come up with a possible goal for his future. 

As Bucky and Steve were washing up after dinner, Bucky said, “I’ve been thinking of volunteering as a translator for charities or civil rights organizations. I know a lot of languages, and it would be good to use some of my Hydra-gained skills for something good.”

“That’s a great idea.”

“Thanks.”

“But you know, those language skills are all you, right?”

Bucky’s shock caused him to pause, with his hands deep in the dish water. “What?”

“It was one of your charms.” Steve efficiently dried a plate and put it in the cupboard. “You picked up phrases so easily. Irish, German, Polish, Spanish, Italian… you could speak to everyone in the neighborhood.”

Steve hip-checked Bucky out of the way and took over finishing up the dishes. Bucky leaned against the counter and searched his memories.He remembered being able to say hello, please, goodbye, thank you, and a few other common phrases in several languages, enough to be able to hold simple conversations. “But I was just being polite.”

Steve laughed and dried his hands. “Yeah, but not everyone could do it, even if they’d tried.” Steve reached out and slung an arm over Bucky’s shoulders. “I’m just saying, Hydra may have crammed more languages into you, but it was your own innate abilities that allowed you to retain them.”

Bucky would have thought that, after weeks of living with Steve again and sharing so many memories and emotions with each other, there would be nothing else to rattle him. But something he’d thought belonged to Hydra really belonged to him? “Steve?”

He didn’t even know what he was asking for, but Steve did. He pulled Bucky into his arms, where he silently wept into Steve’s neck. 

After a few moments, Bucky whispered, “Thank you for reminding me of who I was.”

Steve held Bucky even closer. “Thank you for reminding me who Steve Rogers is.”

Bucky looked quizzically at Steve.

“The art. Illustrating your book has reminded me I had dreams before the war. And that it’s okay to want to do something other than fight.”

“I’m so glad for you.”

“For us.”

***

“Did you know you can get whole degrees online?”

Bucky was up to the kitchen table, writing his book on his laptop. Steve was seated across from him, his own laptop open with his sketchbook next to it.The remains of their lunch had been replaced by a mid-afternoon snack of cheese, fruit, and coffee. Bucky loved the afternoons of quietly working with Steve. He responded to Steve’s question, “Yeah. I was looking into it, you know, for places that might require translators to have one.”

“Gonna do it?”

“My goal is to finish this book first.” Bucky finished typing a sentence before asking, “Why?”

“We were so poor, and I was so sick. I never really gave college much thought.”

“And now?”

“Look.” Steve turned his computer so Bucky could see the screen. “This university is offering a Master’s in public policy, all online.”

“Policy?”

“I might be retired, but I think people would still listen to me if I spoke on issues. And maybe I could contribute more productively, like help design charity programs or prepare to advocate more effectively on important issues. Who knows, maybe even public office?”

Steve was looking at Bucky, like he was begging him to understand.“I think that’s a great idea, Steve. You’d be great at it. At anything you choose to do.”

“Yeah?”

Bucky realized his disbelief must be showing on his face, and he assured him. “Yeah. It’s just, I think it’s finally hitting me. You’re really done with being Captain America, aren’t you?”

“I told you I retired.”

“Yeah, but you’re so…” Bucky waved his hands with the frustration of years of dealing with Steve’s impulsiveness “…you.”

Steve laughed. “I’m done with Cap. I’m just not done helping people.”

***

Bucky stared at the blinking cursor.He was finally finished with his memoir, having left the most difficult part for last. Not the part where he was the Winter Soldier. He’d had to go over those memories so many times when he was healing with his Wakandan therapist, and on his own before that, so those memories poured right out of him, painful and shameful and true. But this was the part of his story when he returned to himself. When he remembered who he was. When he remembered Steve. Bucky knew he had to talk to Steve about this before this book could ever be published. He was afraid of ruining their friendship, of ruining the peace of the home they’d carved out together. 

Bucky couldn’t put it off any longer.

“I don’t need to read it. I trust you to tell the truth about me, Buck.”

Steve, with his damned unconditional trust in Bucky, did not get the urgency of Bucky’s request.

“It isn’t that.” Bucky implored him to understand. “This is my truth, Steve. And you’re a part of it, so you deserve to read it before the world, in case you aren’t comfortable with it.”

“I can’t imagine I’d be uncomfortable.”

Bucky finished cleaning their lunch dishes off of the table and then returned to stand next to Steve. “Just read it. Please.”

Steve finally looked up from his sketchbook. He observed the way Bucky had his arms wrapped protectively around his stomach, a nervous habit that had followed Bucky into the twenty-first century. “Okay, Buck, if it means that much to you.”

“It does.”

“Okay, I’ll read it.”

Bucky nodded, and then he grabbed his jacket off the hook near the front door.

“Where are you going?”

“Out.” Bucky shoved his feet into his boots. “Give you time to read it.”

“Now? Okay, sure.” Steve put down his sketchbook and grabbed his laptop, his willingness to do anything for Bucky clearly on display. “Hey, Buck?”

Bucky paused in the doorway and looked back at Steve, heart in his throat.

“You know there is nothing you could say in here that would tear us apart, right?”

Bucky managed a small smile in acknowledgement before he left.

He hiked miles up the rocky beach, allowing the sound of the crashing waves to drown out his thoughts. He found a picturesque cove with sea glass to point out to Steve and watched sea creatures in a tide pool for a while. He noted the position of the sun in the sky and turned back towards the cabin, because he knew Steve would be worried if he wasn’t back in time for dinner. As he retraced his path, he saw how the wind and the water had altered the beach since he had passed through just a few hours earlier, but the scenery was equally beautiful. Perhaps even more so, for the changes. Bucky tried to let that feeling sink into him: that change could be good and beautiful and wondrous. Change was waiting for him back at the cabin, and he had to believe it would be good no matter what. 

When Bucky opened the door to the cabin, he was met by a wonderful aroma. Smelled like Steve had cooked lasagna, Bucky’s favorite. He took a deep breath, trying to feel reassured by that fact. He kicked off his shoes and made his way to the kitchen. Steve was listening to music and hadn’t noticed Bucky approach, which caused Bucky’s heart to swell. Steve felt that safe here, and still felt that safe even after reading Bucky’s revelations. A moment of doubt took hold of him, though. What if Steve hadn’t read the final chapters after all?

“Steve?”

Steve turned at the sound of Bucky’s voice. His smile lit up the room, in a way Bucky still couldn’t believe he deserved after everything he’d done. After everything he’d written. But Steve wasn’t acting like anything had changed.

“Did you read it?”

“You asked me to. Of course, I did.”

Bucky found himself rooted to the spot. He tried to speak, but couldn’t form words.

“Hey, you’re trembling.”

Tears threatened to spill over. Bucky couldn’t look at Steve as he approached. Then Bucky felt arms around him, and he burrowed his nose into Steve’s neck as they hugged.Bucky wanted to memorize the warm, slightly spicy scent of Steve, in case this was their final embrace.

“Did you think I could be anything other than humbled by what I read? By how you feel?”

Bucky tightened his hold on Steve, savoring his closeness and wanting to never let go.

“Come on, go clean up. Dinner’s ready.” Steve released Bucky, but not before pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead.

A hug, a reassurance, a kiss. 

Feeling almost dizzy with relief, Bucky quickly changed into sweatpants and a hoodie. It was similar to how Steve was dressed, just like this was an ordinary night. Before he returned to the kitchen, he splashed some water on his face. As he looked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, Bucky noted a subtle change in himself, a looseness to his shoulders, like he had divested himself of a long-held physical burden, not just an emotional one. That was good, he decided, another positive outcome of letting Steve know the truth.

When Bucky returned to the kitchen, Steve plated up two heaping dishes and set them on the kitchen table. Bucky’s heart was bursting with affection and gratitude as he sat down. “Thanks for this. Looks fantastic.”

“Knew you’d work up an appetite with such a long hike. Hope you like it.”

Steve was more nervous than usual about his cooking skills, considering how eagerly he seemed to want Bucky’s opinion of the dinner. Bucky inhaled deeply. “Smells great.” And then he took a bite.

This was not the first lasagna Bucky had eaten in the twenty-first century, but it was the first that tasted right, that tasted like home. He savored the flavor on his tongue, eyes closed, and allowed the memory to surface. He laughed. “Cinnamon.”

Steve finally enjoyed his first taste of the lasagna and sighed happily.“I remember your mom teaching us how to make this red sauce. She said we needed to learn how to cook to impress girls.”

Bucky was shocked and took another bite before asking, “Are you trying to impress me?”

“Yeah.” Steve smiled, subtly flirtatious. “Is it working?”

For some reason, it had honestly never occurred to Bucky that Steve would react this way to learning Bucky had been in love with him for decades. Bucky tried to flirt back, but couldn’t keep the uncertainty out of his voice.

“But you know I’m a sure thing.”

“That’s the whole point. You’ve always been the surest thing in the world for me.”Steve showed every sign of wanting Bucky to take this seriously. He placed his hand, palm up, on the table. “I don’t want to take you for granted. To ever make you feel I take you for granted. You’re a goddamned miracle, Bucky.”

Steve was so earnest, like he really wanted Bucky to believe him.

To his surprise, Bucky did believe him. And he believed Steve because he felt the same way. He placed his hand in Steve’s.

“You, too, Stevie.”

After that, conversation flowed easily as they finished almost the entire pan of lasagna. Bucky told Steve about his hike, and Steve told Bucky all the memories baking the lasagna had brought up. And then, as they did every night, they cleared away the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen together.

“Did you save room for dessert?”

“Wow, dessert.” Bucky had regained enough confidence to tease Steve. “This really must be a special occasion.”

To his great delight, Steve actually blushed. “Get a fire going, and I’ll bring it outside.”

Bucky had the fire in the pit roaring by the time Steve placed two mugs and a plate of fresh baked shortbread cookies on the table between the two chairs. The aroma of hot chocolate spiked with amaretto was calming, and Bucky knew it would pair perfectly with the cookies.

“Congratulations on finishing your book.” Steve held up his mug. “To the bravest man I have ever known.”

Bucky tapped his mug to Steve’s. “Thank you.”

They enjoyed their dessert under the starry sky, with the marine layer hovering on the horizon. Bucky could tell Steve had something to say, but he was not as worried about it as he would have been earlier. They’d had a meal, done chores, enjoyed each other’s company… all after Steve knew the truth.

When Steve finally spoke, it wasn’t with anything Bucky could have expected.

“So, uh, Tony told me Howard thought we were together.” He gazed into the flames. “He told Tony that Cap and Bucky were queer, after he caught Tony with a guy.”

“Huh.” Bucky sipped his cocoa, not really knowing what to make of any of that.

“I, um, read up about us after that.”

“About us?”

“There is academic research about our relationship. Reading between the lines of our letters, analyzing our body language in old films and photos.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep.” Steve giggled, a little nervously. “Is it bad the scholars figured it out before I did?”

This was it. Bucky braced himself. “Figured what out?”

Steve smiled at Bucky. His face was open and honest and happy. “Loving you has been the easiest thing I’ve ever done, Buck. So easy, I didn’t even know I was doing it.”

Bucky felt boneless. Like every bit of tension he’d ever felt in his whole life just fled from his body. He felt so light, like he could float away. “Everything has to be a struggle with you, Rogers.”

“Maybe not this. Not us.” Steve held out his hand, and Bucky grabbed it.

Bucky did need to clear the air about one thing. “I’m sorry you never had your chance with Peggy.”

“Thanks, Buck.” Steve paused, obviously considering what to say next. “I think it was for the best, though.”

That was unexpected. The confusion must have shown on Bucky’s face, because Steve explained, “I don’t think the survivor’s guilt would have ever let me be happy. Even if I never learned what had happened to you, if I still thought you were dead…” Steve shook his head. “Something would have always been missing. I don’t think I could have had a happy life without you in it. Sure wouldn’t have been fair to her, always wishing you were there, too.”

Bucky squeezed Steve’s hand tightly. “I know you read it earlier today, but I just want to say it out loud. I love you, Steve.”

“I love you, too.”

Bucky realized Steve was as relieved and happy as he was. They sat there, grinning at each other, until the cold started to get to them both. Steve picked up their mugs, and Bucky began to stand up, but Steve said, “You stay there. I’ll just put these away.”

Bucky gladly remained outside, watching the fog roll in. He always loved the way it shielded them from the rest of the world. On such a momentous day, Bucky was particularly grateful for their solitude. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the sound of the waves.

“May I walk you home?”

Bucky opened his eyes and looked up at Steve, who was holding his hand out to Bucky with all his typical earnestness. Bucky didn’t know what Steve had planned, but he trusted him, so he grabbed Steve’s hand and allowed himself to be pulled up.

But Steve didn’t let go of his hand. He threaded his fingers through Bucky’s while they walked back to the cabin together. Bucky couldn’t help but think of all those times walking alone through Brooklyn, wishing Steve was at his side, now knowing the warmth of Steve’s hand in his was what he’d been missing.

At the front door, Steve stopped and turned to Bucky. “I enjoyed tonight.”

“Me, too.”

“Think you’ll want to go on another date with me?”

“I think I’ll give you another chance, yeah.”

They both burst into laughter at the absurdity of the situation.

“I know, Steve, this must be weird. We don’t have to….”

“No, Bucky, that’s not it.” In the dim light of the porch, Steve seemed as shy and awkward as Bucky remembered him back in their youth.

“Then what is it, sweetheart?”

Steve chewed on his lower lip. After a few false starts, he said, “I’ve never done this part, you know? The dating, the courting… I don’t want us to miss out on that.”

“You want to court me?”

“I want to show you off. You deserve…”

Steve’s voice broke, and in that moment, Bucky saw the truths that Steve managed to hide from everyone else: the doubt, the low self-worth, the fear of never being enough.

“I deserve you.” Bucky swept a stray strand of hair away from Steve’s eyes. “We deserve each other.”

“I just want it to be perfect, now that we finally got here.”

Bucky was touched by Steve’s thoughtfulness, but worried that Steve was moving slow for other reasons. “So, this isn’t because it’s too strange, me being a man?”

“No, not at all.” Steve tugged on Bucky’s hand, pulling him closer. “In fact, I’d very much like to kiss you good night, now that I’ve walked you to your door.”

Just that afternoon, Bucky had stared at a blinking cursor, hoping he wasn’t going to damage his most cherished relationship too much. And now, he was about to be granted his most fervent wish. “I’d like that, too.”

Steve framed Bucky’s face with both hands and then leaned in slowly. Their first kiss was short and sweet, the simple meeting of dry warm lips, at the threshold of the home they’d made with each other.

It felt right, down to the marrow of Bucky’s bones.

Steve’s grin was simultaneously smug and shy. It was a good look, Bucky thought.

“I know you want to be all proper and stuff, but…” Bucky pulled Steve back in for another kiss, this one not as innocent as the one before. “Would you like to come inside?”

“Yeah.”

Steve had lit the fireplace, casting a golden glow over the room. “Kinda hoped we would spend the night together, if you thought our dinner date was successful.”

“Wow.” Tears pooled in Bucky’s eyes. “Give me a few minutes, and I will join you?”

Steve kissed his forehead. “I’ll be waiting, with blankets.”

And if Bucky thought he’d noticed a subtle change earlier, it was nothing compared to what he saw when he looked in the bathroom mirror now. The man in the reflection looked young and eager, all the opportunities wrested from him in his youth having been gifted to him in the form of the requited love of his best friend.

This is what happiness looked like on Bucky Barnes. It had been so long since he recognized it in himself.

When Bucky returned to the living room, Steve had gathered their favorite blankets and was sitting on the couch with one pulled up to his chest. His bare chest. Which Bucky had seen a million times, but so very different now, knowing he might be able to touch it.

“You wearing anything under there, Stevie?”

Steve bit his lower lip and peered up at Bucky through those long eyelashes of his. “Still got my boxers on.”

Bucky was stunned by this development. “You sure this isn’t moving too fast for something you’d never thought about until this afternoon.”

“I never said I hadn’t thought about it, Buck.”

Bucky hadn’t expected that. Nor had he ever heard that deep gravelly tone in Steve’s voice.

“In fact, I’d been thinking about it a lot recently.” Steve lifted up the blanket, inviting Bucky to join him. And how could he possibly resist?

And when they touched each other, the sensation was unlike anything Bucky could remember. Bucky and Steve had held each other a lot since they had reunited, but never skin-to-skin like this, replete with gentleness and love. Exploratory caresses led to passionate kisses and seconds or minutes or hours passed in bliss.

They paused for breath, hands still roving over each other’s body, foreheads pressed together.

“Buck, I know I congratulated you on finishing your book earlier tonight, but I’m kind of hoping you wouldn’t mind writing a new chapter?”

Bucky laughed, joy flooding through him. “Can’t wait to get it started.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to the mods of (Not) Another Stucky Big Bang for putting together this wonderful group of works. I'll always be grateful [Nivelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nivelle/pseuds/NivellesArt) chose my work to create such lovely art for.
> 
> In this timeline we've all found ourselves in, I wanted to do the most subversive thing I could think of: everybody lives, and everyone is happy. Thanks for the comments and the kudos. I hope you and your loved ones are healthy and safe.

A book authored by Bucky Barnes and illustrated by Steve Rogers sparked a bidding war in the publishing industry, the likes of which had never been seen. The money all went to charities - climate change and war refugees, veterans, victims of child trafficking, civil rights - those were the recipients of the advance from _Homecoming_. Pepper and Tony hosted an opening gala for the launch of the book, which raised funds for specific LGBTQIA groups. Bucky and Steve entered the festivities hand-in-hand, a quiet proclamation of their relationship to the world before the book was released.

And after the gala, in the privacy of Tony and Pepper’s Manhattan home, Bucky and Steve were introduced to multiple generations of Barneses. Champagne and tears and stories flowed for several days, and by the time Bucky and Steve returned to their quiet home in California, they had more family than they had ever dreamed of.

After taking a few weeks to decompress from the whirlwind of activities and emotion, Bucky and Steve settled into a new routine. Steve enrolled in online college courses and actively used his celebrity to support more causes. He thrived in the classes, but Bucky’s beloved cranky Stevie from the 1930s re-emerged when dealing with donors and publicity and the bigotry his chosen charities confronted. There was disgust about donors using their philanthropy to aggrandize themselves and coverup past misdeeds. There was anger over which charities were deemed more suitable to support and sadness over the lack of funding for the most vulnerable groups.

And inevitably, something would drive Steve to say, “how could they be so cruel, so unfeeling, when they must know what it’s like to lose someone they love?”

At that point, Bucky would go into full caretaker mode. Bucky did not allow himself to be angry at the personal loss of yet another year, reminding himself to be grateful the year passed by instantly for him. But it didn’t pass by instantly for Steve, who had grieved the loss of his friends and team and carried the grief of everyone who remained, loathing himself for not being able to prevent the Snap in the first place.

Sometimes helping Steve through his pain meant Bucky threw him to the floor and loved him hard so Steve felt the proof of Bucky’s life for a few days. Other times, it meant letting Steve do all the work, leaving marks on Bucky that Steve could see and touch in wonder as they showered together after. And other times, it meant Bucky cuddled and whispered and kissed until Steve melted into a content sleep, his head on Bucky’s lap. Bucky would card his fingers through Steve’s hair and arrange video chats with their friends scattered all around the world. Bucky was determined Steve would never feel alone, would never doubt he was worth being loved, ever again. Soothing Steve’s quick flashes of righteous anger, praising his success in his coursework and his art, and tending to his residual guilt and grief reminded Bucky of long, cold Brooklyn winters. Taking care of Steve made Bucky feel more _real_ than he had since regaining his life as Bucky Barnes.

And while Steve threw himself into his latest missions, Bucky achieved his personal goal of translating for refugee groups. He felt he was repaying the kindness that Wakanda had shown him, when he so desperately needed a safe harbor. Most of the time, Bucky could do the work from home, preparing pamphlets and forms in multiple languages, and sitting in on calls or meetings. Occasionally, though, about once each month, Bucky would drive down to the Bay Area and do translating in-person for severe cases of trauma amongst asylum seekers. He was praised for his gentleness and empathy, the way he put so many people at ease, and he was grateful, so very grateful, for the opportunity to help people on their journey to safety and recovery. After a day spent translating their stories in his softest voice, he would drive the several hours back to the cabin. But not even the quiet of the journey could calm the emotions and memories brought up by the day. Steve would greet him without a word. Instead, he would silently guide Bucky into the bathroom, into a scented bath illuminated by candlelight. He would strip Bucky of his clothes, carefully remove the prosthetic arm, and lower him into the tub. Steve would gently sponge the day from Bucky’s skin, massage his scalp while washing his hair. Steve would use a cup to slowly rinse away the soap and shampoo, incredibly slow and soft so as to never be reminiscent of the harsh showers and abusive hands suffered during decades of captivity. Steve would pull fluffy towels from warmers and dry every stray drop of water from Bucky’s body, then bundle him up and lead him into the bedroom they now shared. Steve would tuck him into bed and then join him, with hot chocolates topped with whipped cream and cinnamon sugar. And then, warmed within and without, Bucky would feel so lucky, so loved.

It was miraculous, Bucky often thought, that this was their life now.

***

“Happiness is a good look on you, Barnes.”

“Thanks, Wilson.”

“Good look on Steve, too.”

Bucky simply smiled in agreement.

After a year of invites, Sam and Natasha had finally taken them up on the offer and joined them for a week at the cabin. Sam didn’t even bring the shield, arguing he deserved a true vacation. Natasha couldn’t be persuaded to leave work behind completely, but she only brought one weapon, which she left in their rental car. These gestures of trust weren’t lost on Bucky.

There had been a lot of gestures of trust during the past year. Bucky and Steve had attended Tony and Pepper’s wedding and danced together at the rather raucous reception afterwards. When they visited the Avengers Compound, Bucky became an honorary member of the Science Bros, with Bruce and Bucky becoming close friends.Bucky was introduced to Laura and the rest of Clint and Natasha’s family, and Bucky and Steve found a younger sister in Wanda. They were honored to be guests of the Wakandan royal family when T’Challa and Nakia married and were touched to be taken into Shuri’s confidence, learning she was destined to become the Black Panther herself. When Thor learned Bucky had always dreamed of going into space, he took Steve and Bucky on a tour of the solar system and out to the nearest stars. All of these amazing and welcoming and heartwarming occurrences, and yet somehow, having Sam and Natasha as guests in the private world Steve and Bucky had constructed for themselves seemed like the greatest gesture of trust yet.

After giving Natasha and Sam a tour of the house and grounds, Bucky and Sam prepared a simple lunch while Steve and Natasha remained outside by the fire pit. Bucky put together a plate of local fruit and cheese, while Sam filled another plate with homemade bread and rooted around the fridge for sodas and beers. They chatted amiably, and Bucky felt immense gratitude for Sam, for his loyalty to Steve and for taking on the Captain America mantle, making it possible for Bucky to enjoy the life he has now.

After they caught up on Avengers news and Sam’s family, Bucky decided it was time to ask Sam about the sleeping arrangements. “So, sleeping on the couch, not in the guest room with Natasha?”

Sam glared at him. “Couch is fine.”

“She sounded like she was offering to share the bed with you.”

“I am not discussing my love life…”

“Or lack thereof.”

“… with you.”

“Hmm…”Natasha and Sam had been dancing around each other for years, according to Steve. Pretty obvious to Bucky’s own eyes, too.

“Just say it.”

“You’re both consenting adults and obviously interested in each other. What’s stopping you?”

“I guess I’m just old-fashioned.”

Bucky gave him a look.

“Okay, yeah, I know, you guys are literally old-fashioned.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow.

“And I’m not a prude either. But I wouldn’t know where I fit in. She has something with Bruce, and a relationship with Clint and his wife.”

Bucky felt a pang of melancholy, knowing what Natasha had been through and his small role in it, as he said to himself. “Good for her.”

Sam’s eyes beseeched Bucky to explain.

“You know how she grew up. There was no family. No love. In fact, love was actively prohibited. Connections were actively punished. It sounds like Natasha has built a life exactly the opposite of that for herself, full of choices and overflowing with love. She deserves that happiness.” Bucky looked directly at Sam. “So do you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Bucky threw a dish towel at Sam. “Even you.”

Sam easily caught the towel and contemplated it seriously.

“You’re thinking about it.” Bucky felt like doing a victory dance.

“I don’t know if it’s the right time.”

“You’re Captain America. Trust me, it’ll never be the right time if you don’t make it one.”

“Could hurt our friendship?”

“You’re seriously trying that excuse on me of all people.”

Sam had the grace to laugh. “Hey, man, it would be…”

At Sam’s hesitation, Bucky filled in the words. “Different than you expected a relationship to be?”

Sam nodded.

"Maybe it won’t be what you thought of as happily ever after. But it could be happily."

“You think?”

Bucky patted Sam on the back. “You put your bag in the guest room. I’ll take out the food. Come join us with the drinks when you’re over your existential crisis.”

Sam picked up his suitcase and walked towards the bedroom. “You’re one to talk, geezer!”

Bucky liked Sam.

Bucky grabbed the food and walked towards the beach. He immediately smiled when he saw Steve and Natasha laughing together. A part of him that still hurt for young, lonely, defensive Steve was so proud of the family Steve had formed around him.

Before they saw him, Bucky caught a hint of his name, and he couldn’t help himself. He allowed his curiosity to overcome his courtesy and used his enhanced hearing to listen in on Steve and Natasha’s conversation.

“You seem different, Rogers.”

“Really? How so?”

“You look a lot younger.”

“I don’t see how that’s possible. I’m 103 years old.”

“Maybe it’s the overall lovestruck glow. Still in the honeymoon phase?”

“It’s not a phase.” Steve said primly. “This is just how we are.”

Natasha cackled, all delight and dimples. “Who are you and what have you done with Steve?”

“Stop it, Nat. I’m just me, Steve Rogers.”

“Nice to meet you, Steve Rogers.”

Steve’s eyes widened in shock as he heard the sincerity of Natasha’s words. Then he shrugged. “I’ve heard people call me a _Man Out of Time_. And maybe I felt that way when I came out of the ice. But honestly? I hadn’t felt like myself since I stepped out of Stark’s Vita-Ray chamber. Not until I started a life with Bucky here. This is home.”

Hearing Steve sounding so happy and proud as he told Natasha he was home brought tears to Bucky’s eyes. At that point, Sam appeared at Bucky’s side and quickly picked up on what was happening. He placed a comforting, reassuring hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “You deserve happiness. Both of you do.”

As Steve watched both of them approach with all the love in the world in his eyes, Bucky whispered to Sam, but really to himself. “I’m starting to believe that.”

After they placed the snacks on the table, Sam put his arm around Natasha’s shoulders. She quirked an eyebrow at him. He grinned and nodded. Natasha cuddled up to his side and placed a kiss on his cheek, and then they curled up in a chair together.

Steve watched this silently, wonderingly, and then opened up his arms in invitation. When Bucky walked into his embrace, Steve whispered, “How did you manage that?”

“Maybe I’ve learned a thing or two, after being courted by the best man I’ve ever known.”

“Setting a romantic example?”

Bucky waved at their surroundings. “I think it’s something about the location.”

“Which you found and built a place for us, so we could grow into the future together. Romantic.” Steve framed Bucky’s face with his hands. “I love you, Buck.”

“Love you, too, so much.” The words couldn’t convey all the love Bucky contained in his heart.

And when Steve kissed him in front of their friends and their cozy cabin, Bucky knew he had finally come home, too.


End file.
